


Gods and Monsters

by mlyn



Series: Gods and Monsters [1]
Category: 13th Warrior (1999)
Genre: Historical, M/M, Slash, Vikings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-12
Updated: 2006-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-23 07:03:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 70,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlyn/pseuds/mlyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning: this chapter refers to male on male rape.</p></blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ahmed Ibn Fahdlan Ibn Al Abbas Ibn Rashid Ibn Hamad knelt on the soft thick moss and put his hands in front of his knees, bending until his forehead touched his knuckles.

Allah help him, he was a sinner.

He sat back and looked up, catching sight of the pale blue sky between the stark, scraggly tree branches. The sky was the same, but everything was so different here. It was cold and wet, and the life forms were completely alien to him. This place had its own beauty, but it was as severe as it was breathtaking.

He was becoming accustomed to having his aesthetic tastes challenged. The meals of the Northmen were flavorful but crude. They wore their hair long and tangled, but Ahmed had never seen such a light golden color as the sun teased from Herger the Joyous's locks. Their music and singing...Ahmed had no words to describe it. It was just _odd_.

He was supposed to be an ambassador, open to other cultures and spreading the wealth and culture of his native land. What his journey had turned into was a mockery of the refinement he represented and sought. Instead he had abandoned his country, his ethics, and his God.

And, may Allah spare him, he found himself revelling in this new life.

Ahmed closed his eyes and prostrated himself a second time. Tears stung his eyes as he forced himself to continue recounting his sins. He pressed his face and hands to the ground, inhaling the musty smell of earth.

 _Mohammad, peace and blessings be upon you. May your teachings guide me to return to the grace and purity of Allah. My sins are thus: I have killed men. I have not prayed daily. And I have felt lust for..._

He couldn't bring himself to even think it.

***

Herger drained the last of the mead in his flagon and let it drop to the ground, landing on a pile of his armor. He wiped his mouth with thickened fingers, feeling his head spin. He closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation.

The Thirteen were not supposed to drink so heavily at this most dangerous and important time, but Herger had been given special permission from Buliwyf.

He was Buliwyf's favorite; everyone knew it. And Buliwyf hated to see Herger losing his concentration in the face of something more tantalizing. He needed to fight as well as he ever did, and he just couldn't with what was distracting him. So they spent the night getting drunk and releasing tension. Herger had accomplished half that.

Buliwyf stoked the fire and put on another chunk of fir, the sap snapping and crackling. The flames and embers rose high, throwing light onto his severe face. He was watching Herger.

"Well?" he said, voice grumbling.

Herger nodded. He knew what Buliwyf was asking. They'd been friends for so long, they no longer needed words.

Buliwyf got up and retrieved their furs, spreading them out next to the fire. They were near the Watchtower, though no one was on watch tonight. And no one had questioned Buliwyf's decision for the reduced watch.

Herger lost time staring into the flames, his face flushed from heat and drink. Finally Buliwyf pulled him up by an arm, guiding him to the makeshift bed. Herger sank to his knees, swaying gently as his body fought to keep balance. Buliwyf knelt behind him, breath ruffling Herger's hair. He pulled Herger's shirt out of the waist of his leather pants, stripping it over his head in one smooth move. A brief rustle told him Buliwyf had stripped off his own shirt. Hard arms wrapped around him from behind, pulling him back. He sat with practiced ease, his ass nestling into Buliwyf's lap.

Buliwyf bent his head, white-blond hair falling over Herger's shoulder. "You can pretend with me."

Herger moaned and let his head drop back to Buliwyf's chest. Buliwyf knew exactly what to say and do, in this as in all things. So Herger kept his eyes closed, and imagined it was Eben behind him.

Knowing hands teased and petted his chest while a hot mouth explored his throat. His lover used teeth and tongue to stimulate, firing all the nerves in his ear and neck to hot arousal. At the same time, rough, calloused fingers pinched his nipples and rubbed his stomach.

In no time at all he was writhing with pleasure, hips rolling and pressing into the lap beneath him. His lover took pity and pushed into his trousers, fingers loosening the leather ties and pressing into his hot groin. They played briefly with the blond curls surrounding his prick, then pulled it free.

Herger pushed his trousers down his thighs, then tried reaching behind him for his lover's own trousers. One rough hand grabbed his wrists and held them behind his back, the other continuing to stroke his cock. Fluid seeped from the head and eased the friction, but the increased pleasure was more maddening than anything.

"Please!" He turned his head into his lover's neck, struggling against the hold on his wrists. Both hands released him, reached between them, and began removing the last clothing barrier. Herger fell forward onto his hands and shuddered.

Olga was going to be angry when she found out what they'd done with her salve.

His lover pulled him back upright, a hand on his hip guiding him. Always eager for pleasures of the flesh, he pushed back on his own and pushed himself onto his lover's staff. A groan rumbled in his ear in reaction.

"By all the gods, Little Brother," he panted.

The groan changed to words, the voice amused and warm. "Only Loki favors you, you hedonist."

Speaking was the wrong thing to do; it brought Herger back to reality. It wasn't as though this was new to either him or Buliwyf, however. He rolled his hips and felt his body shift to adjust. "Still your tongue," he mumbled, head spinning.

That tongue traced a pattern on his shoulder instead. He twitched at the tickling sensation, lifting his pelvis and pushing his needy cock into the fire-charged air, making his lover's prick slide out of him. His lover pulled him back, and the fucking began in earnest.

***

Ahmed slid from the saddle and patted his horse's flank, sending it back down the hill. It had taken some effort to find out where Herger and Buliwyf had gone, but Edgtho had finally looked pointedly up toward the Watchtower before leaving his seat for another flagon of water.

Ahmed had finished his meal quickly and set off, tense with anger, wanting to know exactly why their leader and their best fighter had abandoned them.

The scent of wood smoke led him here, to this small clearing and quiet fire. He could catch glimpses of Herger and Buliwyf through the dense underbrush, but couldn't discern what they were doing. Neither of them were talking, which seemed odd for two men sneaking off when battle could be expected at any hour. What could they possibly find necessary enough to pursue in secrecy and silence?

A low groan caught his attention.

He cleared a space for his body and stretched out on the earth, finally getting a good view of the two Norsemen. His eyes widened.

***

"Ah! Gods among us!" Herger twisted, hands scrabbling on his lover's thighs. Sweat ran down his throat and pooled above his collarbones, shimmering in the firelight. "Yess. Eben. Please. More, please, Little Brother, that's it..."

His lover grunted and grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling his head back. The surge of sensation flowed down Herger's chest and centered in his cock. He cried out wordlessly, his voice echoing in the trees. Flinging an arm back, he grabbed his lover's own hair and hung on.

His lover grunted again and pulled him as close as they could possibly get, teeth digging into his upraised arm, cock pulsing inside him. Herger moaned as he felt their combined energy ebb. He had not reached completion.

They fell heavily to their sides, legs and trousers tangling. Reaching around, his lover began stroking his cock again. Herger let out a strangled groan and humped frantically into the fist. Finally, he was granted some release from his furious lust, and spent into his lover's hand. He bit his lip and held back his final cry, and whimpered softly as he came down from his climax.

***

Ahmed released his aching lip from between his teeth and looked down at his hand. Making a face, he rubbed his palm clean on a clump of fern nearby, then hastily refastened his trousers. With his release, reason had quickly returned. He had to leave before they found him.

He had to pray for forgiveness.

He needed some insight to deal with the way he felt.

***

The only indication of another's presence was the sudden dip in the surface of the soil next to him. Ahmed sat back quickly, making eye contact as Herger knelt in the same moment.

"I did not hear you," Ahmed mumbled.

"I know."

Pushing off his knees, Ahmed rose and retrieved his boots. He felt raw and hollowed out, and he wasn't sure he could keep up a conversation in Norse while in this state. But ignoring Herger would be rude.

"How may I serve you?" Ahmed winced as soon as he said the words. He just didn't have the vocabulary to say anything right. He'd only meant to ask what Herger wanted.

Herger grinned at the mistake but simply said, "I do not require your services. I came to find you, Little Brother. We must finish readying ourselves for the Wendol."

Ahmed's face flushed as he picked up his cloak, fastening it in jerky movements. "I will follow." He would follow Herger anywhere; back to the lodge, into battle, to the beyond. It frightened him, how he felt.

Herger stepped back but didn't leave. He seemed hesitant to say something. Ahmed continued collecting his gear and mounted his horse.

"Eben," Herger started. He paused and blew out a breath, kicking a clump of moss. Ahmed brought his horse closer and waited.

Herger hesitated, then put a hand on Ahmed's bent knee. He looked up and their eyes met. "I..." He trailed off.

Suddenly, Ahmed could see the meaning in his clear blue eyes. The hand on his knee tightened incrementally, power thrumming in Herger's fingers. Ahmed's breath caught in his chest.

Then Herger seemed to collect himself and resumed. "Don't get yourself killed if you can help it. You came all this way. You have to survive."

Ahmed covered Herger's hand on his knee, feeling the warmth and strength. "I have no plan to fail you." He dearly wanted to say "or leave you," or to lean down and press his mouth to Herger's lips, or to curl his body around that of the blond Northman and feel him shudder in pleasure. But he couldn't.

Instead, the knowledge that Herger cared was enough to warm his heart. Even though Herger couldn't bring himself to say it, nor could Ahmed. They didn't need words now.

Instead he patted Herger's hand, then clicked to his mount and started down the hill.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter refers to male on male rape.

Ahmed Ibn Fahdlan watched the shore fall away from the boat, the current taking him farther from his friend waving to him on the land. He stopped waving himself when Herger was out of sight. He felt happier than he had in months, even being back on a Northman long boat, because he was finally traveling home.

He walked along the deck of the ship, staying out of the way of the crew but enjoying the fresh air and scenery. He knew, with a thrill, that it would be the last time he would be seeing Jutland, so he wanted to remember it clearly for his writings.

Beyond the deck was the land where Ahmed had spent so many weeks, miles of forests dotted with small settlements. He could see little of civilization from this view, if the Northmen had what could be called a proper civilization. Regardless, the shoreline of dense forests and stony beaches remained as silent and unknowable as the men who lived there.

Shore birds wheeled above his head, singing their abrasive calls as if to bid him a hasty goodbye. He looked up at them for a few minutes, mentally giving his goodbye in return.

He felt strange, like he had developed a kinship with this place but not had the time to acquaint himself with the feeling. He knew he'd miss all of this, but he'd never fallen in love with it to begin with.

He would not be taken all the way back to the region where he had encountered the Northmen, the land of the Tartars. The trading vessel would instead take him as far as they saw fit, and then he'd have to continue on his own, whether by horseback with his mare Asiya, or on another trading ship. The person he'd been months earlier would have been afraid of traveling alone in a foreign country, but after his time as the thirteenth warrior, he felt up to the challenge.

The ship stopped to take on more trade wares and made camp on the shore for the night. As they continued on with the second day, Ahmed realized that the seas were calm here and the sailors frequently had little to do. They asked Ahmed about the battles against the wendol, hungry for the violent, gory details. He enjoyed talking about the other warriors more, living up to his promise of honoring Buliwyf after death through stories. He was already working on an epic poem, though he could only write it in his mind.

In the afternoon he concentrated on talking about his friend Herger, letting the words flow from his lips as easily as how he had once sung poetry for the caliph. His skill with the Norse language was getting better with practice.

Suddenly one man stood up angrily and threw the remains of his meal overboard. He spat the rest, a mouthful of tough bread, onto the deck.

"That _argr_ bastard is too short to swing his own sword. Shut your stupid mouth about him."

Ahmed stared at him, not understanding both the man's language and his anger. He spoke slowly, confused and not wanting to attract the man's irritation. "He fought bravely and well. He was one of the few to live."

"Bah. He is a bastard son of a whore." The man spat again and turned away, bracing his hands on the rail and glaring at the water.

Ahmed stood. "I will not stand here and listen to you curse his name. I demand your apology!"

The other sailors on deck moved around them uneasily. A few still tended to their duties, pulling on sail lines or throwing a slop bucket's contents overboard, but they were distracted by the argument.

The first man stomped across the deck and towered over him, sour breath washing over Ahmed's face. "Who are you? Filthy _seiðskratti_ , skin the color of shit. We should never have let you on this vessel."

A few of the sailors laughed at this new string of curses. Ahmed's face burned, not knowing what the man was calling him. He reached for his sword to make a bigger presence, but the man saw him going for his weapon and moved faster. A fist slammed into his jaw, making his head spin and pain pound through his skull. He shook his head to clear it and spat out blood.

"Stupid milk cow," he shot back, temper overcoming his sense of propriety. "Did some farmer whip all the sense out of your head?"

Another sailor lunged for him, pushing him hard against the rail. The wood pushed hard into his back. "Take it back," the second man ground out between clenched teeth.

"Not until he does!"

The first man reached between them and grabbed Ahmed by his dishdashah, the long robe he wore. The Northman threw him to the middle of the boat. He landed hard on his hip, his hand skidding into the gob of half-chewed bread. He made a disgusted face, and then the Northman was on him.

"Perhaps you want this." The Northman shoved him onto his stomach and began jerking on his clothing. "Make you feel like you're back in the lodge with your precious Herger breathing down your neck." He got Ahmed's robe up around his waist.

Finally understanding his meaning, Ahmed began to struggle, but the other sailors had gathered around. One grabbed his hands and pushed his face into the deck, holding him down with a strength honed through sailing and fighting. His pants were torn down, the waistband jerking hard on his soft genitals. He became aware of a chant starting, " _Klámhogg_ " filling his ears.

The man's hard rod shoved into his body, tearing and burning with such force that tears immediately sprang to his eyes. He cried out. There was laughter around him now, mixed in with the chant. The man thrust again, tearing deeper.

He'd heard " _klámhogg_ " used in a joke a few months prior. Herger had explained it meant "shame-stroke" and was inflicted on the buttocks, but had let Ahmed believe it meant caning. Obviously he was wrong.

After an indeterminable time, the sailor grunted his release and pulled away. Ahmed felt the skin around his entrance stretch as the man pulled out, but the exit was easier than the breaching. He realized he'd become slick with something, and shuddered to think what it might be.

Another sailor tried to take the place of the first man, but there was a scuffle. Someone stepped on his leg and a hand pressed heavily on his hip as a man struggled for balance.

"No more!" someone shouted. "We are finished with this. It is settled."

Ahmed thanked Allah and turned his cheek to the deck, relaxing. His hands were released. Before he could regain his feet, multiple hands pulled him up.

He was steered roughly to the rail of the ship. Realizing the Northmen's intention, he struggled briefly, but was thrown overboard before he could help himself. He fell a short distance and hit his head on an oar, losing consciousness to the bright flare of light behind his eyes.  


 

Ahmed awoke choking on salt water. Instinctively coughing, he flailed in the water for a few moments before settling into a treading motion and clearing his lungs. Gulping in air, he looked blearily around him.

Water surrounded him on all sides. In the distance he could see the ship rowing away. Behind him there was land, but it was a long swim away, and he was only used to swimming in the Tigris River running through Baghdad. There, the banks were a narrower distance than the open sea of this strange land. But with no other option, he decided to swim.

First he wrestled off his waterlogged dishdashah, shumagg, and boots, but saved the beaded ogal that had kept his head covering in place. It was a family heirloom; the rest could be replaced when he got back to civilization. His horse, Asiya, could not be replaced, but he could not think of her while nearly drowning himself. Clutching his ogal in one hand, he continued paddling toward shore.

As he got closer to land the waves got rougher, and he began to be tossed around in the surf. He realized that the shore was not a calm pebbled beach, as he'd hoped, but instead a dense maze of sharp dark rock. A wave started to swamp him and with a burst of fear, he sucked in a breath just before losing consciousness again.


	3. Chapter 3

Ahmed awoke again with his entire body aching. He coughed up some sea water and realized the ocean no longer cradled him, that instead there was hard, uncomfortable ground beneath him. Opening his eyes to slits, he looked blearily up at some oddly colored trees. Belatedly he realized that they were heads, people bending over him. He closed his eyes.  


"Shh. Safe now."

A warm fur was tucked up around his chin and shoulders. Ahmed realized he had been whimpering, and opened his eyes. His head and chest throbbed with pain, and even the low light hurt his eyes. The face of a white-haired woman moved into his line of sight.

"You have broken some bones, but you are safe now. How did you wash up on our shore?"

He had not the strength to tell her any of it.  


 

The next day he was awake enough to get a better sense of his surroundings, and be examined more thoroughly.

The lodge he was in was smaller than the one ruled by King Hrothgar. It smelled rank, though the stink was offset by the brightly burning fire in the center of the building. On closer examination, the lodge smelled like sickness. He hoped this settlement wasn't gripped by plague, or he might never get out alive.

But everyone around him seemed healthy, if tired and underfed. Winter was coming and they were probably working themselves to the bone, trying to build up enough stores to survive.

He lay on a straw mattress with a cloth over it, presumably so the bedding could be changed periodically. He realized he was wearing simple garments, the cloth thin and scratchy. Their loose fit made him more aware of the trickling wetness tickling his buttocks.

He heard a medicine man called for, while two men about his age came to the bed and helped him up. They sat him in a chair while his bed was freshened. Sitting upright was nearly unbearable, but he bit his cheek until his bed was ready. The white-haired woman, Elgra by name, chattered at him while she worked on cooking food for the lodge's inhabitants.

While Ahmed was returned to the bed, a servant girl balled the bed cloth in her arms and went to Elgra. Ahmed saw her pull up a section of the fabric and show Elgra something. He remembered the feel of trickling and covered his face with a hand.

The medicine man, Granath, came to him. He looked to be older than Herger, and wore a stained green tunic over hide leggings. He pulled down the furs cover Ahmed to his chin and gently touched his torso through the thin tunic, asking him questions about what had happened. Ahmed only said he fell off a ship and was then washed ashore.

Granath determined that Elgra was wrong about the broken bones; Ahmed only had three ribs on his right side that had cracked when the wave had tossed him into the rocks. There was also a bump on his head. Lack of food and water had exacerbated his condition. With a few days' rest, he would be able to continue on with his journey, Granath said. Ahmed didn't say anything about his other injury.

While Ahmed ate a stew with greens and rabbit, Elgra and Granath talked. Granath came back to Ahmed as he finished his meal.

"The girl says you are bleeding. This is true?"

Ahmed adjusted the fur over his chest and averted his eyes, but nodded. "An argument, with the men on the ship. They insulted my friend."

"An argument does not cause bleeding."

"I lost my temper and insulted them in return. I called one a milk cow."

"Ah." Granath sat back, looking both satisfied and sympathetic. Ahmed saw by his expression that Granath now knew where the blood had come from. "You called him an animal that bears offspring, a female animal. Not a good thing to say."

"I understand." Ahmed raised a hand to his forehead, rubbing with his fingertips as if to draw out memories. "What does... _argr_? What does that mean?"

The man looked like he'd smelled something bad. "It describes...a man who enjoys other men."

After the rape and remembering what he'd seen of Buliwyf and Herger alone in the forest, Ahmed had suspected what the words had meant. He nodded, lowering his gaze. He felt angry all over again on Herger's behalf, hating the way that sailor had talked about him. Whose business was it what Herger did in his bed, when he had fought so bravely and saved so many lives? Who were any of them to judge?

"Do you..."

Ahmed looked up, alarmed at the question. "No!" He watched relief flood Granath's face. He fumbled for something else to say, but Granath spoke first.

"What you said was enough for the man to give you a _klámhogg_. You insulted his masculinity; he dealt you an acceptable punishment."

While Ahmed considered that, relieved that his friendship with Herger had nothing to do with it, Granath stood. "I should look at this wound, to see if you will heal. This kind of wound is dangerous. It could kill you if not treated."

Ahmed's mind reeled with surprise and shame. He nodded, speechless. With Granath's help he turned onto his uninjured side and let the furs be pulled down, and the loose pants too. The examination went on for a long time, and when it was done Granath said Ahmed would not be able to travel alone. However, they didn't have the resources to care for an extra person through the winter.

Herger was sent for.  


 

The progress of the trading vessel had been slow enough that it would not take long for Herger to be reached; probably two days each way. For the two nights after Herger was sent for, they were all on edge while Ahmed ran a fever, but it broke on the third day.

The messenger and Herger arrived with a deer carcass and a hefty bag of grain, enough to thank the lodge for taking care of Ahmed and offset the burden on their food stores. While the womenfolk hurried around the lodge to ready the deer for drying, Herger warmed his hands with a hot drink and talked with Ahmed.

He looked different than when Ahmed had last seen him. It seemed like ages had passed, but in truth it was only a few days. Herger had taken his new boiled leather armor and sewn bronze scales onto it, and his mail had been cleaned since the last battle. His skin glowed from working in the sunlight. The rest of his costume was the same; leather pants and boots, rough shirt and tunic, leather gauntlets, sword and arrows and mead horn. It was all such a welcome sight that Ahmed felt an urge to embrace Herger.

Herger did not want to talk about himself, of course. He questioned Ahmed endlessly about what had happened to him. Ahmed had no choice but to tell Herger why Granath had wanted him to stay bed-bound. He averted his face while he said it.

"I got into an argument with one of the sailors. I lost my temper, insulted him. And he--" He blew out a breath. Herger watched him with heavy anticipation. "He forced himself. On me."

Herger said something on a rush of breath. Ahmed didn't understand it, but it sounded like cursing. Herger took a gulp of tea, then reached out and grabbed one of Ahmed's hands. Ahmed jerked in surprise at the touch, and his ribs complained.

"He will pay for his insult."

"As I paid for mine?"

Herger stared at him.

Ahmed gestured in Granath's direction. "The medicine man says that it happened because of what I said. How long will this cycle of violence and retribution go on?"

His eyes stung, and he had to catch his breath, an effort that caused severe pain in his chest. "I just want to go home." He knew he sounded like a petulant child, but the despair and shame was overwhelming.

Herger tightened the grip on his hand. "I will take you there, my brother."  


 

Two days later Ahmed was judged well enough to leave, and another trading vessel had stopped the night before. After Herger talked with the traders and gained permission for them to travel along, Ahmed gingerly boarded the boat and immediately stowed himself away. What remained of his clothing had been returned to him, as well as boots from one of the men who had died from the sickness. Luckily, his belt with his dagger and purse had not been lost in the water. Without both, he would not get very far on his journey.

With Granath's and Elgra's blessings on them both, they started off again at daybreak.

The passage along the shore of the Baltic Sea was slow-going while the trader continued to pick up goods. Each night they camped onshore as well. The first night Ahmed didn't even leave the ship; he slept until just before dawn. The second night Herger helped him disembark, then offered him some food and a cup of mead, which Ahmed took without a word.

As he woke up, eventually his energy returned, and he and Herger started up a conversation among themselves, the other sailors ignoring them. Ahmed began asking about the language the sailor had used in their argument. Herger became angry again at what had happened, but explained it all.

As Granath had said, _argr_ was a description word for a male who passively gave himself to other men, while _seiðskratti_ referred to male prostitutes who preferred to be used by men. After he'd finished explaining, Herger looked intently at him.

"You do not seem surprised by them calling me these things."

Ahmed shrugged uneasily and prodded the fire with a stray fallen branch. "I gathered their meaning after what they did."

Herger shook his head, braids swinging. "I do not believe that is it. What are you holding back, Little Brother?"

Ahmed was a good man, not a liar or a coward. He stopped avoiding the question and answered it.

"I saw you, with Buliwyf, in the forest. Before the second battle."

Of course Herger knew immediately what he meant.

He straightened stiffly, his face going blank. He blinked and looked away, staring into the fire. He didn't say anything.

After several minutes, Herger got up without looking at him and went over to the group of camp girls hanging around the sailors' fire. While Ahmed watched, Herger wrapped his arm around one girl's waist and brought her roughly against him, grinding his pelvis against hers and kissing her in a sexual display.

The sailors took notice and howled their approval. They cheered him on as he led the girl deeper into the woods, pulling up the hem of her dress.

Ahmed lowered his head and drew a borrowed blanket closer around his shoulders. He stood with some effort and made his way back to the ship to sleep.  


 

Ahmed jerked awake in the morning, a movement that made his ribs complain heartily. Sunlight was streaming gently through the trees, threading through the fog over the water and casting rays above the ship. He lay on his bedroll for several minutes, watching the unspeakable beauty, until the sun rose too high and the effect was gone. It was time to face the day.

He shivered in the cool air and rose, trudging stiffly to the rail to relieve himself over the side. While he was refastening his trousers he saw Herger and the sailors emerging from the forest, packed and ready to leave. Ahmed said nothing to Herger, and no one said anything to him. He didn't try to apologize to Herger. It was too soon.  


 

But after two days Ahmed had finally had enough of Herger's grumpy silence. That night he stood and reached over the fire, yanking a leg of rabbit out of Herger's grasp while the Northman was trying to take a bite. Herger stood angrily, putting them nose to nose.

Ahmed started speaking in Latin, wishing for privacy from the keen ears of the sailors. "I apologize for watching you. Now will you stop this childish pouting and speak to me again?"

"Childish?" Herger spoke angrily enough that Ahmed felt some spittle land on his cheek. "You betrayed my trust and my privacy. Why should I continue to give you my friendship?"

"Then leave! Do not feel obligated to travel with me when you despise my presence! I have apologized to you, but if you will not accept it, then I will continue on my own."

Herger fisted a hand in Ahmed's tunic, yanking him still closer. Their foreheads pressed firmly together. One blue eye blazed into Ahmed's gaze. "I will not have you die because of me, stupid Arab."

Ahmed struggled to pull out of Herger's grip, surprised at his strength. "You have a strange idea of duty!"

Herger took back the leg of rabbit with a jerky motion, then bit a mouthful of meat off the bone. He chewed and swallowed, still watching Ahmed steadily. Then, to his surprise, he burst into a wide grin and laughed.

"Damn you. I cannot stay angry when you look so lost, like a horse without his master."

Ahmed was even more confused by that statement than he was by the sudden shift in mood. He reacted stiffly when Herger wrapped an arm around his shoulder and embraced him.

"But do something like that to me again, and I will cut off your balls. You understand?"

Herger spoke so casually, it took Ahmed a moment to realize he was serious. He knew Herger could deliver on the threat, and nodded.

Herger let him go and sat down, going back to his food. Ahmed took his seat more slowly and hardly ate any more. He was consumed by his thoughts.

At the simplest touch, he could not help but immediately think of the way Herger had called for him in passion, so many nights previous.


	4. Chapter 4

The sea grew rougher as they continued northeast. Ahmed fell victim to sea sickness, just as he had on the voyage to Jutland. He could not keep his food and water in his stomach as the ship pitched and rolled.

Herger tried giving Ahmed warm water laced with honey, insisting that he drink, but Ahmed would have none of it. His stomach muscles ached constantly, his healing ribs hurt with every heaving expulsion, and he could not stand even the smell of food. In addition, he hated looking Herger in the face and imagining him kissing that young girl. He tried his best to ignore Herger and feel nothing, not sickness or want.

The conflicting memories of Herger, with Buliwyf and with the camp girl, accompanied Ahmed for the rest of the time they spent on the Baltic Sea. Despite how badly he'd wanted Ahmed at one time, Herger kept a respectable distance. It confused Ahmed, and made him yearn for some sort of confirmation of Herger's feelings, whatever they were. But of course he could not ask for that.  


 

They reached the port city of Riga and stopped for three days to trade and load more cargo. Ahmed paid for a small room in an inn and offered to share it with Herger, using the cache of money he kept in a purse on his belt. Daylight hours were quiet, when townsfolk went about their business. But at night the inn was boisterous, working women prowling the rooms like wolves, dozens of men eating and drinking with their usual fervor that bordered on chaos. After the first night, Ahmed took his meals in his room, not wanting to get involved in any of the debauchery. Besides, not every Northman was as accepting of Ahmed's racial presence as Herger was, and they were both afraid that the situation would get dangerous for Ahmed again.

While Ahmed stayed upstairs, Herger went to the public room on the main floor for his meals and entertainment. He drank enough not to get drunk, but to fall asleep immediately after dropping into bed. But on their second night, Ahmed woke to hear Herger on the small pallet next to his.

There were a lot of sounds of movement coming from that side of the room, the straw mattress rustling, blankets and clothes shifting. Then those sounds quieted, but were replaced with...unmistakably, the sound of kissing. Breath was expelled through open lips, tongues tangling wetly.

Ahmed blushed and rolled onto his side, putting his arms next to his ears to try and block all noises out. It hurt his ribs to lay like this, but at least he wouldn't have to listen.

Somebody moaned loud enough for Ahmed to hear. It sounded like a man.

"Quiet."

That was Herger.

And if Herger was telling the other person to be quiet, and the other sound had been made by a man...

Ahmed squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his arms around his head.

It didn't work. He could still hear what was going on, sibilant sounds of whispers, wet sounds of mouths kissing. He felt his entire body grow warm. An ache started to grow between his legs.

And then, suddenly, it was quiet.

Ahmed lowered his arms, then immediately realized his mistake. Herger and his companion hadn't stopped; they merely weren't mouth-to-mouth. The wet sounds were softer now, and came underneath gentle gasps. He felt a stirring in his pants, his body reacting instinctively to the unmistakable sounds of sex.  
Ahmed's flush intensified gradually until he could hear his heart beating in his ears. Even under the thumping pulse of blood he could hear the sucking and gentle panting.

He opened his eyes, staring up at the tiny trickles of moonlight coming through the chinks in the walls. He was fully erect, and hating every moment that he wanted a mouth on him, too. Every surge of blood through his veins hardened him more.

The panting increased in pace just as his pulse did, until he heard Herger whisper something feverishly just before a low, drawn-out groan.

After a moment, the mattress rustled. "Do you want--" That was a young man's voice.

"No. You may leave."

There was some more noise as the whore dressed, then left the room and closed the door quietly. Ahmed closed his eyes, hearing Herger settle in bed and sigh. Within minutes, Herger was breathing deeply in sleep.

Ahmed was now wide awake, aching with desire.

He needed release just like any man, to be satisfied when cornered by sex, even when the sex had not been presented to him and had involved two men. Those minor details didn't mean he didn't crave satisfaction.

He pushed his hand into his pants and fisted himself roughly, trying to quickly tame his desire, as if masturbating in haste was a lesser sin.

He tried anxiously to think of Olga, how slipping into her hot tightness had seemed like heaven when he was surrounded by death and despair. But in his mind, the only blond hair he admired was the curl of mustache over Herger's lip, the only blue eyes the ones that had twinkled at him every day on his journey. The image in his mind as he climaxed was only the sight of how Herger looked in ecstasy, calling out for Eben.

 

  
Just before they were scheduled to leave, Herger came riding up to the shore where the boat was docked. He was leading a small gray mare behind him, and with a jolt, Ahmed realized it was Asiya. He leaned over the side of the boat but found that words were stuck in his throat. All he could say was, "How?"

"Traders left her. So few will pay for an Arabic dog." Herger led the horses to a gangplank and dismounted, walking them onboard in a line. Ahmed was too thankful to be offended by Herger's harsh words. He took Asiya's head between his hands when she was onboard, kissing her nose and whispering welcome in Arabic. His breath caught in his chest when a sailor pulled her away, then let her go when he realized she was only going to be stowed with the other horses.

Herger avoided his eyes as they pulled away from shore.

After that, the party finally began traveling down the Dvina River, further into the land of the Rus. Their destination was Polotsk, another two or three weeks of travel.

The sea sickness left Ahmed as the water calmed. As he began to feel more like himself, he concentrated more on mental feelings than physical ones.

Despite the angry words and hurtful actions expressed against him, he still felt great affection for Herger, especially after the return of Asiya. With no other way to spend his days, he dreamed for some way to express it. He began to fall back on what he knew, the words of great poets who had lived with him in Baghdad.

One afternoon he was jolted by the recollection that several of his predecessors had made their fame not just through the beauty of their words, but also the titillating lives they enjoyed and wrote about. One poem sprang to mind instantly. He murmured it to himself as he watched water roll under the curving lines of the bow.

 _If I am drunk, it's not with his young wine_

 _But with those curls, which make my head spin._

 _Each of his graces vies my heart entwine_

 _But pale before the silky down of his chin._

He looked up as he finished, directing his gaze over the river, and found Herger watching him from a few feet away. He hadn't shaved in months, likely, and Ahmed found himself staring at the remarkably light blond beard. He had a sudden desire to feel the bristles against his lips.

"What was that, Little Brother?"

Ahmed flushed and mumbled that it was nothing.

By Allah, even the perverts lusting after boys in Baghdad only obsessed over the young, unformed beards. Teenagers with faces hardly dusted with hair were one thing, but Herger was a primitive. A barbarian. And a fully grown man, with a respectable man's beard. By all counts, that made Ahmed's lust for him even more bizarre and outlandish than that of the Baghdad degenerates.

His face still burning, Ahmed looked away and prayed for the intelligence to understand what he was feeling.

 

  
Ahmed threw a rock out from under his bedroll and stretched out again. He still wasn't comfortable. Sleep still wasn't coming. Why couldn't he sleep? Or think straight, or carry on a conversation, or relax on the ship without a thousand ribald thoughts and sexual images invading his mind?

Rolling over, he looked through the dying flames of their campfire, at Herger lying on his back.

His friend was relaxed in sleep, but still kept a hand on the pommel of his sword. He slept on his back most of the time, Ahmed knew, but his legs shifted in his sleep. Just now one of Herger's legs was bent and turned open, creating a more inviting space between his thighs.

Ahmed closed his eyes and cursed himself. Just the mental image he needed: Herger with his legs spread, trouser opening undone, hips rocking gently to pump his erection into a willing mouth.

He bit his lip and slid his own hand into his trousers.

 

  
Herger handed over his mead horn and looked searchingly at Ahmed. "You have been quiet."

Ahmed took a small sip and passed the horn back. They ate enough to stay strong, but Ahmed still felt like he was starving for something else. He'd taken to keeping his head down, knowing he'd stare openly at Herger for long moments if he allowed the distraction.

"I have nothing to say." He toyed with the beading of his ogal, concentrating on rubbing dirt from the cracks and joints.

"Tell me a story, then." Herger took another sip of mead and lay back on an elbow, watching Ahmed across the fire.

Ahmed wanted to curse in frustration. Herger's voice was so musical, he couldn't resist the request. He opened his mouth, and out came the poem that had been in his memory for weeks.

 _In the bathhouse, the mysteries hidden by trousers_

 _Are revealed to you._

 _All becomes radiantly manifest._

 _Feast your eyes without restraint!_

 _You see handsome buttocks, shapely trim torsos,_

 _You hear the guys whispering pious formulas to one another_

 _("God is Great!" "Praise be to God!")_

 _Ah, what a palace of pleasure is the bathhouse!_

 _Even when the towel-bearers come in_

 _And spoil the fun a bit._

Herger raised an eyebrow.

Ahmed took a drink of water and mumbled, "Abu Nuwas wrote that."

Herger smiled and ate a bit of dried meat. "You spoke it well."

Ahmed sighed. Herger kept eating quietly for a moment, then reached over and took Ahmed's cup of water to drink. His blue eyes teased Ahmed above the rim as he sipped. Then he handed the cup back and said, "Are you trying to tell me something?"

Ahmed shook his head and drained the cup. "You wanted to hear a poem."

"Don't act stupid, Eben."

Ahmed threw the cup away and stood, glaring down at Herger. "My name is not Eben!"

All conversation quieted around the camp fires. The sailors were watching them.

Herger tossed the last bite of meat into the fire and stood as well. "Get it out."

"Get _what_ out?" Ahmed realized too late that he was being loud, voice echoing among the trees.

"Whatever is bothering you. Hit me if you have to."

Ahmed grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him a few inches closer, waiting for Herger to enter a fight with him. But Herger just let himself get tugged, and he was then close enough that there was no space between them. He tilted his head, looking Ahmed in the face.

Painfully aware of the eyes on them, Ahmed released his grip and pushed past Herger, trudging into the forest. Laughter followed him. He walked until his path was blocked by a fallen tree, which he leaned against heavily, rubbing his mouth.

He'd been so tempted to kiss Herger. For a few frightening moments he thought he'd actually done it, vividly imagining the way soft lips would give against his. He was so desperate for some contact that he felt out of control, shaking and sweating. He wanted to tear apart the forest, to go back to Herger and throw him to the ground, grind their bodies together and kiss him until neither of them could breathe; and all of it right in the face of those sailors. It was a ridiculous desire, but so strong that he couldn't shake it. Unable to decide what to do, he dug his fingers into the soft tree bark and waited for the impulse to pass.

Herger was asleep when he returned to the camp.  


 

As each day followed the next, Ahmed reflected frequently on wanting to kiss Herger and what it meant about himself. If he wanted it so much, perhaps he was more of a deviant than he had always perceived himself to be. He only knew that he kept looking at Herger's mouth, and his hands, and the strong thighs that kept him nimble on deck, and wanted.

One day Herger told a dirty joke to the sailors and Ahmed had to turn away to hide his expression. When Ahmed didn't laugh, Herger looked at Ahmed, then chuckled himself.

"Sorry, Little Brother. I forgot what a prude you are."

Ahmed struggled for a retort, but water splashed against the bow at that moment, and anything he could say would be lost in the noise.

He moved closer to Herger on deck and lowered his voice. "I am not a prude," he said defensively. "I enjoy pleasure." He hesitated. "Pleasures of the flesh."

Herger glanced at him. "Did not seem like that after the other night."

So he _knew_.

Trying to remain calm, Ahmed responded, "You do not know what I felt that night."

Herger looked at him again, surprised. "You ran away."

Ahmed turned and gripped the rail, staring at the dark river water. "I did not trust myself to be able to stop if I had...followed my instincts."

"You do not have to _stop_ ," Herger retorted, grinning widely.

Ahmed focused a glare in Herger's direction. "Have you forgotten so soon what those men did to me? I saw exactly what Buliwyf was doing to you. I do not wish to repeat the experience. It would be better if I did nothing at all. Are you so stupid as to not understand that?"

Herger's face darkened. He leaned close to Ahmed. "Never compare me to those men. You have no understanding of these matters."

Tightening his fists around the rail, Ahmed repressed the urge to grab Herger and shake him. "I had blood-soaked cloths that said otherwise."

"And I have not."

Ahmed stopped, not understanding immediately. Herger raised his eyebrows.  
"I have never bled. You have no idea what goes on. And we would not have to do that. Nor would I ever hurt you." His voice softened minutely, but he still looked angry. "You think so little of me?"

Ahmed was speechless. Herger pushed away from the rail and brushed by him, heading toward the covered stores in the center of the boat.

When Ahmed caught up to Herger, ducking under an oilcloth covering, Herger had started digging in the sack where they kept food on hand. Ahmed would much rather continue finish their discussion than eat, but he decided not to say anything when Herger was already going through the trouble of getting out food.

In the darkness of the oilcloths, Herger handed him an apple, then closed his hand over Ahmed's wrist. He closed the distance between them and quickly ran his hand up Ahmed's arm and neck, pushing his fingers into Ahmed's curls.

Ahmed was shaking as he watched Herger. The blue eyes were gentle and patient, urging Ahmed to trust him, to trust them both. Ahmed exhaled unsteadily and closed his eyes, giving in to the tension and fear.

The soft mouth touched his, lips teasing his apart and tongue flicking lightly. Then Herger slid his mouth away, dragging kisses across Ahmed's cheek until he reached his hairline. There Herger licked the curls, humming softly as his mouth worked. Ahmed felt his knees go weak.

Herger stepped back and got some food out for himself, sitting on a container as he unwrapped it. He offered some of the hard bread to Ahmed, who was still standing, holding his forgotten apple.

"That was..." Ahmed looked at the bread. He sat on another container near Herger, taking it and breaking off a chunk before passing it back. He ate slowly.

"Nice, yes?" Herger took his own hefty mouthful. "I have wanted to do that for months."

"I am sorry."

"Do not apologize for what you had no control over. That is a sign of weakness." Herger ate some cheese and the last of his bread, then brushed off his hands. "And I know you are not weak." He quirked an eyebrow, making Ahmed think of other meanings. Embarrassed and unsure how to respond, Ahmed concentrated on eating his food.

When they were finished, Herger stood and started to duck out from under the stretched canopy, then looked over. "I am going to do that again," he commented casually.

"You mean..." Ahmed felt his face flush before he could bring himself to whisper it. "Kiss me?"

The blond head nodded. "Until you get used to it. All things at the right moment, just as the Old Father decided for you." Ahmed stood and brushed off his tunic and pants as Herger talked. "That is why you were thrown overboard. The men didn't have to do it, but they were returning you to me. It was fated."

Ahmed found himself smiling. Herger spoke so casually, but with such conviction. It was hard to dismiss him as a godless deviant when his beliefs hurt no one.

But as Herger was distracted by helping the sailors and Ahmed was left to his own thoughts, he was absorbed by thinking of the kiss.

By Allah, that had felt so wonderful. Nothing like the childish pecks Olga had given him; as eager as she'd been, she lacked experience. But Herger knew exactly what he was doing. He'd used just the right amount of pressure. His lips had been soft, with his beard gently tickling Ahmed's face, and there had been the slightest hint of breath right before he had pulled away.

Ahmed felt as though Herger was some exotic animal, creeping into his life and bringing spice and adventure. In the midst of dark lands and hostile people, he was a bright presence continually keeping Ahmed surprised.


	5. Chapter 5

As the trip stretched on and Ahmed thought more about that first kiss, he felt himself yearning for privacy. The last thing he wanted was a dozen brutes watching his every move, waiting for an opportunity to slit his throat, when he only wanted to be home...or alone with Herger. But it could not be helped.

At one stop along the river, they were invited to supper at a nearby farm. The people spoke a different language and the children stared at Ahmed and whispered behind their hands, but they were treated hospitably and got along through hand signals and what little vocabulary the traders knew. Ahmed found the farmers to be a rough, coarse group of people, the men with their skin covered in permanent inked markings and the women with tangled, dirty hair. But he said nothing, because he was grateful for the hot meal.

After the meal, the travelers spread out to sleep for the night. Some stayed in the house with the family, while others went back to the boat. Ahmed chose the barn. He didn't relish sleeping with animals, but he'd done it before, and the sweet-smelling hay would be more comfortable and warm than the hard deck. Mostly he wanted the spot because it provided the most privacy he'd had in weeks.

Herger accompanied him to the barn, ostensibly to say goodnight before departing for the boat. Ahmed occupied himself by piling hay around and taking off his dagger. He then stretched out in a stall.

Herger crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the frame of the door. "We should find you some furs or a cloak. It will get cold soon."

Ahmed was cold all the time, but he knew that was because he was an Arab. The seasons were closer to changing by the day, and they were still too far north to travel safely without extra clothing. Ahmed wondered how far they'd get before the first freeze. They seemed to be making such poor progress, with the constant stops for trading. He merely nodded in agreement, too tired to talk about it.

His mind and body fought each other over sleep. On one hand his eyes drifted closed, while on the other, he wanted to remain awake until Herger left.

His eyelids flew open. It was completely dark out and he sensed he had been sleeping. Herger was no longer at the door. He pressed his head back into the hay and sighed.

"You should rest." Herger's voice made him jolt. He pushed a bit of hay away from his face.

"I thought you went back to the ship."

"The men are drunk; they did not notice me leaving. You need something to put your mind at ease?" Herger sounded like he was teasing, but Ahmed couldn't see him at all in the severe darkness. But he heard him kneel in the hay, saw a black shape against the shadowy roof.

Ahmed closed his eyes. The soft mouth touched his again, lips and breath hot against his cool features. This time Herger drew it out, playing his mouth against Ahmed's in long, luxurious kisses.

Ahmed sighed with pleasure, and Herger took that as permission to deepen the kiss. His warm, wet, agile tongue made Ahmed jerk in surprise, then moan as it tangled with his.

Herger slanted his head and covered Ahmed's mouth entirely, sealing it off, tongue thrusting and dueling. Small sounds continued to seep from Ahmed's throat, need, desire, and approval all making themselves known.

When Herger pulled away, Ahmed realized his whole body was tense and aching. He wanted more. Now.

"That did not help," he panted.

Herger laughed. "But it is enough. I must go back." He stood.

As Herger's footfalls faded away, Ahmed closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth seeping into his limbs, and slept.  


 

As they continued on through Rus, Ahmed traded some gold coin for some necessities, including a wool cloak with rabbit fur lining and a new set of saddlebags. His purchases were not made a moment too soon, as frost began to appear on the farm grasses, and quickly it grew cold enough that it stayed all day, spiteful of the weak sun. Ahmed felt as though he was shivering constantly. His body ached with the cold. The traders paid him little attention, but he noticed that Herger watched him more closely.

It began raining on the thirty-fifth day of their journey, the day they reached Polotsk. Much to Ahmed's relief, they left the trading vessel to travel over land. Their destination was Gnëzdovo, a town on another river, where they hoped to join a new trading party and continue south.

They found a caravan of wagons heading to the city and joined it, paying for stowing their extra supplies aboard a wagon while they rode their horses. The wagons made traveling much faster than it would have taken them on foot, but the rain persisted the entire time, leaving Ahmed as miserable as when he'd been seasick.

The first night they created a shelter with some young trees trunks and the plentiful brush. With a small fire sputtering between them, they were still damp, but not quite as chilled.

Ahmed took the food Herger offered but was so tired he could hardly eat, and instead stared blankly at the fire with the dried meat in his hand. After some time Herger reached over and took the food out of his grasp, then got up and sat next to him.

"I see I need to revive you first."

Ahmed blinked just as Herger kissed him. His lips were cool, but his tongue and breath were warm. Ahmed felt like he melted inside, and turned his head to press back.

Herger pushed him to the ground with a thud, not breaking the kiss. He lay partly on top of Ahmed, and Ahmed was shocked to feel his hands wandering while the kiss intensified. Soon Herger found the edge of his shirt and tunic and pushed his hands underneath.

Ahmed sucked in a surprised breath at Herger's cold touch, but didn't stop the kiss. He was further shocked when Herger's hands stroked up his chest and found his nipples, rubbing them with calloused thumbs. Bolts of heat shot from his chest to his groin, quickly making him hard.

Ahmed gripped what fistfuls of Herger's clothing he could find and hung on. He hoped that Herger would never stop.

But he did. When he pulled away Ahmed's face was tingling from the rub of beard against his chin and lips, and his erect staff throbbed pleasantly. Herger let out a breath and they both sat up.

Ahmed straightened his clothes, knowing this was as far as they'd go for the evening. They couldn't risk getting caught by the rest of the travelers.

He still hadn't forgotten the terrible pain of a man forcing himself upon him, but at the same time, Herger made him ache for more. And Ahmed had seen Herger in pleasure, when it was obviously not an act for his sake.

His mind was confused, but his body was very certain about what it wanted.

His body had been the thing that had cast him out from Baghdad. Now he had no city to be cast out of, and only one companion. There seemed to be so little risk.

He realized then that he was famished. He retrieved his bit of meat and dug into it, making a satisfied sound as he chewed. Herger laughed and returned to his own meal.  


 

The next morning Ahmed woke and tried to get up, only to find that every muscle in his body was stiff and sore from riding after so long of sitting on a boat. He groaned and struggled to his feet. Looking over, he saw that Herger was still asleep on the ground. His trousers were open.

He quickly averted his eyes, embarrassed. Keeping his back to Herger, he packed up their few possessions and restored the fire. Eventually he heard Herger stir, and murmured a greeting over his shoulder.

After a hasty breakfast, the caravan set off again. It had stopped raining during the night and they wanted to get as far as possible while the weather was clear. They reached Gnëzdovo in the middle of the night, a few hours after the rain started again.

Ahmed had hardly managed to find a stable for Asiya before hurrying into a public house and asking for a room. The owner was hesitant to rent to him and Herger, but persuaded by the sight of gold from Ahmed's purse. They supped next to the roaring fire and then headed straight to bed. Ahmed slept deeply and dreamlessly, happy to finally be on a decent pallet again.

In the morning, Ahmed woke to find Herger fingering his purse. He sat up quickly and reached out for it, scowling when Herger held it out of reach.

"We need food."

"You could ask before taking my money."

"I haven't left with it." But Herger drew his cloak on and fastened it at his shoulder. Ahmed began putting on his boots, blinking sleep out of his eyes.

"What if I had not woken? You would be gone without a word."

Herger merely opened the door. "Sleep more," he said cheerfully, as if solving the world's problems. "You have time."

Before Ahmed could argue further, Herger left the room. Ahmed stared at the door, irritated.

He had trusted Herger all along to know what provisions to buy, but never before had he just grabbed the money as if it was his.

Ahmed took a breath and lay back, toeing his boots off again and pulling the blanket over himself. Greed was a sin. He need not be so possessive of his purse, when they were traveling together.

He slept for a while longer, then awoke again when Herger returned. Herger brought him hot, black tea and returned his purse. Ahmed noticed appreciatively that the weight had not changed much. They dressed and went out into the town, looking for a way to pass the time while waiting for their next boat to set sail.

They wandered through town, finding that they'd arrived on a market day and tents were set up to show a variety of wares. Herger was distracted by someone offering used weapons and mail, while Ahmed wandered on and found a clothier's shop a short distance away. A pair of leather gloves took his interest, but he wasn't sure he could afford them when they had so much farther to go. He decided to pass on the gloves.

When he started to walk away, he looked around for Herger, and realized with exasperation that his companion was nowhere in sight.

He resolved not to search the market, knowing that Herger would find him when he was ready. He was not the Northman's caretaker and need not look after him at all times. Instead he sipped his tea and went back to the public house, looking for something for breakfast.

He ate a hearty meal, then went out again without Herger. Taking a different direction through the market, he noticed a crowd in an alleyway. When he walked over, he realized people were watching a fight of some kind.

There was a flash of blond hair between a few shoulders of the bystanders. Ahmed moved closer.

It was Herger fighting, circling his opponent with focused concentration. Again exasperated, Ahmed called over the noise of the cheering group. "Northman!"

The blond head turned a fraction, and in the moment he was distracted, Herger's opponent hit him across the jaw. Herger went down to the crowd's doubled cheers. Money changed hands as people dispersed. Ahmed moved closer and crouched.

"Do not do that again," Herger grumbled. He wiped his mouth but was not bleeding, although his jaw and lip were quickly swelling.

"My apologies. I did not think." Ahmed took his arm and helped him stand, then tried brushing the mud off his back. Herger grumbled again and moved away, retrieving his cloak and walking out of the alley.

Ahmed was not so quick to let him go. "Why were you fighting?"

Herger touched his jaw again and scowled at the ground as he walked. "For sport, of course. Don't be stupid."

Ahmed was stung. He drew closer to Herger and lowered his voice. "Herger, please. Why are you here?"

Herger gave him a dark look. "Because we took a boat ride. Did all your senses rattle right out of your head yesterday?"

Fed up with Herger's attitude, Ahmed took his arm and pushed him off the street and against a building. "Stop it," he hissed while he still had the element of the surprise. Herger shook him off but stayed still to hear him out.

"Either soften your tongue when you speak to me, or leave me here now."

Herger said nothing. His gaze roamed over Ahmed's face, but his expression remained closed off.

Ahmed grew ever more frustrated. "Why have you come with me? Why not stay in your homeland with your people?"

At this, Herger seemed uncomfortable, and his response was harsh because of it. "I promised you I would take you to your home. I have nothing in the North. I have always traveled to make my fortune. It is what the gods have decided for me."

Ahmed's heartbeat slowed as he calmed. "Then why are you so unhappy?"

Herger only shook his head and stepped away from the wall. Ahmed let him go.


	6. Chapter 6

Ahmed and Herger stayed in the public house until their boat was ready to leave at midday. From Gnëzdovo they took a boat south on the Dneiper River. The land they were traveling through was hilly and forested, cleared around the river for farming. To Ahmed, all of the land looked very much the same. He was already tired of river travel, and they had a long distance to go before they were done.

Each day he tried to have something different to do. One day he asked Herger to help him become more skilled with a bow and arrow; another day he learned the operation of the boat's sail. It at least kept him busy and physically fit, even if he was spiritually and emotionally miserable.

Herger's occasional nighttime visits brought his spirits up, although he inevitably felt guilty for enjoying them. He found himself doing things he never would have imagined doing; naïve, sexually innocent things that seemed to inflame Herger's lust. But they had yet to become intimate with each other the way Herger and Buliwyf had.

Thinking of the possibility always made Ahmed nervous, but it seemed inevitable. He could only comfort himself by thinking that they would get there at the right time, as with all other things...just as Herger had said.

It was another fifteen days before they reached the next major town. They stopped in Liubech, a day's journey north of a confluence of the Dneiper and the Pripet rivers. By this time Herger had been hunting some and collecting furs, and traded them for food and gear.

They were camping with the boat this time. The party that went into town to trade stayed all day, and it was after nightfall by the time Herger and the rest returned. With the change in seasons, the days had grown shorter, and the nights colder.

Ahmed was keeping to himself, eating from the lamb they'd bought from a butcher, when something small and black flew into his lap. He started in surprise, then realized it was no animal attacking him. Wiping his fingers on his trousers, he looked up and saw Herger looking at him from a few feet away.

When he picked up the offering, he found it to be a pair of leather gloves with rabbit fur lining. He stared at them in shock as Herger sat down and took some food.

"How could you afford this?"

Herger only shrugged.

Ahmed tried them on. The leather seemed big for his hands, but the fur lining took up some space and made them comfortable. He said, "They fit."

"Good. I thought your hands were small, like a woman's." Herger grinned as he continued eating. Ahmed gave him a mock scowl and pulled the gloves off.

"Thank you. I am in your debt."

Herger grunted and shrugged.

Later, Herger shook Ahmed out of a doze and gestured for him to come along deeper into the surrounding blackness. They trudged through a frosty field until the dying fires were small in the distance and they came to the edge of a forest. Herger knelt by a tree and motioned for Ahmed to join him.

Ahmed was used to sneaking off by now, and knelt close to Herger. Pressing Ahmed against the trunk, Herger licked his way up Ahmed's neck and into a strong kiss. When they parted a few minutes later, both of Herger's hands were in the fur-lined hood of Ahmed's cloak.

Ahmed turned his head and rubbed his cheek against the fur, lips brushing the soft web between Herger's thumb and forefinger. Herger slid his finger into Ahmed's mouth and moved it gently, playing with the light teasing of Ahmed's tongue.

"Turn around, lie against me," Herger whispered suddenly. Ahmed stopped sucking on his finger and looked at him in the moonlight. When he saw that he was serious, he granted the request. He felt awkward taking a spot between Herger's spread legs, but he was learning to trust his companion's ideas.

Herger pulled off Ahmed's cloak and draped it over them both. Underneath it he found one of Ahmed's hands, and pulled the glove off. Then he groped for Ahmed's trousers and quickly unfastened the ties.

Herger's bare hand closed around his hard staff and pulled him out of his trousers, stroking up to the tip. Ahmed groaned and pressed back against Herger's chest, his head dropping to his companion's shoulder. This was completely new, and unbelievably arousing.

Herger turned his head and fastened his mouth to Ahmed's neck, biting and sucking. Ahmed put his hands on Herger's thighs, gripping hard as lust made him tremble.

Herger stroked him a few more times, then pulled away. When his hand returned, it was with Ahmed's discarded glove. Herger moved his mouth from the mark left on Ahmed's neck and rubbed his lips under Ahmed's jaw, tongue flicking. Ahmed gasped for breath as Herger fit the glove onto his staff, rubbing through it and making the rabbit fur caress his flesh.

With his hands on Herger's legs, Ahmed braced himself and thrust urgently into Herger's fist and the glove. When he felt Herger's breath rushing over his cheek in harsh panting, he turned his head and kissed him deeply. Their twin groans were muffled.

Herger's hand kept moving in quick strokes, squeezing lightly enough that the fur slid smoothly over Ahmed's shaft. His own heat was trapped in the glove, making it feel like he was sliding into a warm, soft body.

Herger broke the kiss, his other hand touching Ahmed's face, stroking his cheek.

Finally Ahmed reached between his legs and closed his fingers over Herger's wrist. "Soon," he gasped. Herger pulled the glove off Ahmed's arousal and continued stroking. His other hand cupped Ahmed's balls, squeezing gently. Ahmed bucked and grunted, his seed spilling over Herger's fist.

When Ahmed came back to himself, he realized Herger was panting and shuddering behind him, having climaxed too. Herger let him go and Ahmed got up, wiping himself off with the tail of his shirt. He heard Herger doing the same behind him, and gave him a moment before turning and picking up his cloak.

Herger stood and offered Ahmed's glove back to him. Ahmed grinned and took it, but to his surprise Herger grabbed his wrist and pulled him close.

"Think of me when you wear them."

Ahmed nodded, not wanting to say that he already thought of Herger in those moments. Most nights he went to sleep with his face turned into the hood, inhaling the smell and feeling the soft pelt caress him, imagining it was something other than fur.

Herger kissed him a final time and released him.

As they walked back toward the dying fires of the camp, Herger nudged him in the shoulder. "That was fun."

Ahmed laughed and nodded. In reality he wasn't sure he was going to sleep after this. He was thinking of Herger coaxing him to climax while pressed against him, then climaxing himself. The images were going to stay in his mind for a long time.

They got back and lay down in their chosen spots, saying nothing. Shivering now without Herger pressed against him, Ahmed wrapped himself in his cloak and closed his eyes.  


 

He woke again soaked with dew, and opened his eyes to see an expanse of white. Around him the traders were stirring, and he could hear Herger to his left whispering.

"Óðinn...Óðinn."

Turning his head, he saw Herger staring up at the fog, mouth moving as he chanted. Ahmed untangling himself from his cloak and rolled to his feet.

"No monsters here, Northman," he said in Latin. "We have fought them off together."

Herger scowled at having been spotted. He got up and went about his morning rituals, trudging off into a field to piss and coming back to wash his face. Ahmed noticed that one trader had to break through a layer of ice on the bucket of river water they'd kept overnight.

Just looking at the bucket, he shivered again. The thought of shaving off oil and stubble to let his face get chapped with cold another day was no longer appealing. It looked like he'd be growing a beard of his own from now on.

They traveled another day to Vyshgorod and stopped again. Ahmed and Herger took off to explore the area on horseback. The landscape was changing significantly from forested hills to the flat, endless plains of the steppes.

The cold wind took Ahmed's breath away. While Herger led the way away from town and took obvious pleasure in being allowed to roam again, Ahmed huddled inside his cloak and renewed his vow not to complain.

Herger dismounted to set more of his snare traps. While he was occupied, Ahmed circled Asiya and looked around.

The fog had lifted to become a low-hanging sea of gray clouds, their underbellies whipped into a froth by the wind. The vegetation was short and sparse, and there seemed to be no animal or human life. But a flicker of movement caught Ahmed's attention, and when he looked he saw a fox slinking by and giving them a wary look.

"We have competition," Herger said. He had seen the fox too.

With his traps set, Herger remounted and they continued on. Ahmed changed the pace to a gallop just to get his blood up. His hood blew back but the energy needed in riding was enough to get him warm. He saw Herger coming up next to him and kicked Asiya to go faster, laughing when Herger realized it had turned into a race and kicked his horse too. They both began to ride at breakneck speed. But eventually the land turned into a marsh bordering a river tributary, and they had to stop suddenly when the horses went belly-deep in soft grass and watery mud.

"Let us go back. I am cold." But Ahmed was grateful for the gloves; his hands would be purple without them. And every time he thought of the gloves, he thought of what they'd done with them.

"You're always cold," Herger scoffed. He turned and led the way out of the marsh, urging his horse hard enough that it kicked mud onto Ahmed when trying to gain ground. Ahmed frowned and brushed himself off, but followed.

They stayed near the town and the camp for the rest of the day and into the evening. When he woke the next morning, Ahmed was surprised to realize that Herger had not come to him in the middle of the night. He was also missing from his bed.

Herger returned a short time after Ahmed rose for the day. He was carrying some kills from his traps. Ahmed berated himself for worrying constantly about Herger, when he should have remembered the traps. He sat near the fire in a foul mood, at turns angry with himself and with Herger, using only enough energy to be irritated and shiver.

Eventually the traders got going, and they finally arrived in Kiev that night. Just being in a city made Ahmed feel warmer, although Kiev was a rough place that stank of sewage. They found a room to rent and decided their next moves.

"South of here is Kiataevo," Herger said, using a map he'd drawn on a piece of hide. "The river winds from that point on until it reaches the Black Sea. I propose we take a more direct route," he traced it with his finger, "to the port city of Kherson."

"By ourselves?" Ahmed tried to hide the hope in his voice.

Herger sat back in his chair, lifting a tankard of ale. "With a caravan. It is safer to travel in groups, as skilled as I am." He grinned.

Ahmed considered. They were going slowly with the trading vessel, but river travel was faster than horseback no matter how often the boat stopped. Yet the caravan route was more direct, and would provide a change of scenery Ahmed had been craving. He took a sip of tea and decided.

"The caravan."

Herger nodded and left to tell the traders that they would not continue with the ship. Ahmed studied the crudely drawn map as he finished his tea.

A knock came at the door. Herger would not knock. Ahmed got up and opened it cautiously, then smiled when he saw a woman standing in the hall with a tray of food.

He let her in to deliver the food and gave her a bit of coin in thanks. Herger came back and dug into his meal with gusto. He washed down a mouthful of beef with more ale and said, "This may be our last night in a room with a bed for a long time."

"What are you saying?" Ahmed tried the pottage of turnips, leeks, and carrots. It was mushy and tasted as one would expect overcooked vegetables to taste, but he ate it anyway.

"That we make the most of it." Herger wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Ahmed nearly snorted pottage through his nose with amusement, and coughed as he swallowed awkwardly. He managed to get some water down to clear his throat while Herger looked amused.

"I am surprised you are asking first," Ahmed said finally.

"I'm not asking," Herger retorted. He went back to eating a hunk of bread, sopping up the juices of his meat with it.

Not sure how to respond, Ahmed ate the rest of his meal in silence. When Ahmed drained his cup of water, Herger bent over and began unlacing his boots. Ahmed got up and washed his face in the bowl of rinse water, trying to ignore the fluttering in his stomach.

The floorboards creaked, signaling Herger approaching him. He dried his face with his sleeve, then felt Herger tug on his arm and pull him around.

Strong fingers scraped over his stubble and into his hair, holding him still for the hot mouth that covered his. Ahmed sighed and slipped his tongue into Herger's mouth, welcoming the familiar sensations. He could do this.

Herger quickly grew more insistent. He pulled off his own shirt with jerky movements and grabbed Ahmed by his tunic, pushing him toward the small, low bed. Ahmed felt the mattress with his heel and sat heavily. Herger followed, kneeling between his legs, pulling off Ahmed's boots and then leaning forward.

"Why so urgent?" Ahmed murmured a moment before his mouth was taken in another kiss. Herger pushed his tongue into Ahmed's mouth for a few deep thrusts before answering.

"I have been waiting for this." He began pulling on Ahmed's clothing. Ahmed tried to help, lifting up and raising his arms when required. When he was stripped of his shirt and tunic, he put his hands on Herger's fingers at the fastening of his pants.

"Let me."

Herger nodded and sat back. Ahmed swung his legs over to the other side of the bed, turning his back for a false sense of privacy as he removed the last items of his clothing. He heard Herger behind him, making sounds of effort as he undoubtedly wrestled with his leather trousers. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and waited. Herger blew out the candle.

Soon Herger's hands touched his shoulders, drawing him back. Ahmed twisted and met another kiss, moaning softly as Herger sucked on his tongue and ran his hands over his chest.

Then Herger pushed him flat and got on top of him, slipping his thigh between Ahmed's legs and settling his weight. Herger felt so good against him, all heat and weight and _skin_. Hot, soft, lightly furred skin, so much of it, right there. Ahmed moaned into Herger's mouth and lifted his hands to Herger's back, stroking from hip to shoulder.

Herger lifted his head and chuckled, letting out a breath he'd been holding. Ahmed had to get used to the sense of having Herger pressed full-length against him. It was easier, not being able to see him very well in the dark; fewer things to concentrate on. Herger let him recover, moving his own hands over Ahmed's torso, then returned for another taste of his mouth.

They kissed until their mouths were raw, moaning and breathing heavily into each other's mouths. Ahmed realized that they were now grinding their hips together, Herger's hardness pressed right up against his own, and it felt wonderful.

Herger took one of his hands and brought it between them. Ahmed curled his fingers around Herger's arousal and stroked lightly, exploring by touch, enjoying the heat and weight as rushing blood made it pulse in his fist. There was some extra skin behind the head, and Ahmed realized after a moment that Herger was uncircumcised. He changed the movement of his hand, sliding the hood up and down the shaft. Herger's breath puffed onto his cheek as he panted.

But then Herger's hands were suddenly rough, grabbing him around the chest and pushing him onto his stomach. Ahmed lay still for a moment, hearing Herger get into his saddlebags and fumble for something. He jerked when a hand touched his buttocks. The warm glow of arousal was quickly being replaced by the memory of burning, tearing pain.

Herger murmured, "Relax," and pushed slick fingers into Ahmed's cleft.

Ahmed felt the fingers touch his entrance and jerked again. He reached back and batted Herger's hand away while curling up defensively, rolling to the side.

Herger was staring at him; Ahmed could just barely make out the outline of his face in the little light they had. Ahmed swallowed unsteadily, reaching for his shirt.

"I cannot. Please."

"You were certainly eager a moment ago!" Herger was irritated.

"How can you not understand?" Ahmed pulled his shirt on and stood to don his trousers. Anger exploded out of him suddenly, surprising him. He stood there with his voice raised, pants forgotten in one hand. "Are you stupid? Or do you simply not have any consideration for any person?"

Herger stood to face him, standing on the mattress to put his face close. "Must I woo you like a new bride? You are being an infant, Eben."

Ahmed's fist flew before he realized what he was doing. He heard a smack and saw Herger's head snap to the side.

Herger said nothing. He gathered his clothing and dressed quickly while Ahmed watched, then slammed the door as he left the room.

Ahmed pushed the heel of his hand into his eyes and sat on the bed.

What the hell had just happened?


	7. Chapter 7

Ahmed found Herger asleep at a table downstairs the next morning. He sat and drank a cup of tea, not saying anything when Herger woke and sat up, spine cracking and popping from sleeping hunched over.

They both ate breakfast without saying a word. After the meal, Herger was awake enough to talk. He leaned back and looked across the table at Ahmed.

"I will take you to Constantinople. From there you must find your own way to your homeland."

Ahmed nodded, heart sinking. After all the ways Herger had made him feel wonderful throughout this long trip, here he was in Kiev feeling his heart breaking as Herger purposefully distanced himself from Ahmed.

But then: an Arab poet and a Northman barbarian. They were hardly destined for lifelong friendship. Who could expect other than mistrust and pain?  


 

He left Herger as soon as he'd finished his own meal, and walked through the town in search of some perspective. The streets were crowded with peasants, many begging for food or help. More than once he noticed some youthful pickpocket eyeing him for money, and stopped himself from putting a hand over his side where he kept his purse. From his youth in Baghdad, he had learned quickly not to give away the location of his money. Everyone he met seemed to want to take a piece out of him today.

He reached the end of the street and looked out over the surrounding farms, hearing the noise of the town recede. The air seemed a little fresher here, and the morning sky was painted from a soft palette of pinks and blues. Ahmed inhaled and held his breath, listening only to his heart beat. He was alive, healthy, and had far more blessings by the grace of Allah than the wretches on the streets behind him. He should be thankful for that much.

He turned around and went back through the town.

Ahmed's spirits warmed when he found a fellow Arab leading a caravan to Kherson. It was refreshing to speak with someone else in his native tongue, though he felt odd making the sounds. It had been fifty-six days since he and Herger had left Jutland together, and he could count on one hand the number of times he'd spoken Arabic in that period.

For the first time, he was the best person qualified to make travel arrangements. He returned to the public house and told Herger that he had handled everything for traveling to Kherson. Herger was even more surly at being usurped as the guide, but Ahmed bore his irritation peacefully. At last he had an advantage; he was going to enjoy it.

They still had their horses, but would be joining a caravan of camels. Ahmed was thankful for Asiya; she was lighter and didn't eat as much, and could handle the arid, waterless steppes better than Herger's huge steed. With a sense of accomplishment and pride back in place, Ahmed's adventurous attitude finally returned.

They set out from Kiev two days later.  


 

When the caravan converged for the first time, Ahmed introduced himself to the Arabs in the traveling party, happy to be in the company of more of his kinsmen. He introduced Herger only as "my companion," and added that he'd be leaving Herger in Constantinople. He didn't feel guilty distorting the truth, the truth being that Herger planned on leaving him.

He approached one man with a turban and murmured, "As'salaam Alaikum." The stranger turned.

He was younger than Ahmed, very tall and heavily built, skin black as kohl, and possessed piercing dark eyes. He murmured the prayer in return and they bowed to each other. Ahmed put his hand to his chest and introduced himself.

"Jahhaf," the stranger said, pressing a hand to his own chest. Ahmed waited for a patronymic, but when Jahhaf did not say more, he began helping him pack his camel.

"Where are you from?"

"Algiers. I grew up there after being taken from my home as a child."

"You were a slave, then."

Jahhaf nodded. "Freed when my master died. He had only daughters. I inherited his business and sold it to his son-in-law."

Ahmed chuckled. "You obviously know our laws well."

Jahhaf smiled and mounted his camel. Ahmed handed up the reigns and patted the camel's neck.

"I am pleased to meet you, Ahmed ibn Fahdlan."

"And I you, Jahhaf."

Ahmed returned to the horses and mounted Asiya. Herger was waiting, and brought his mount closer as Ahmed pulled on his gloves. There was a bruise next to his mouth that neither of them were talking about.

"Make a new friend?"

Ahmed nodded, not looking at him. The caravan had begun to move and he nudged Asiya into following. "His name is Jahhaf. He is polite, intelligent, a Muslim. He was also a slave in his youth. I could introduce you to him, if you would like."

"I would not." Herger rode off, leaving Ahmed to shake his head in frustration.

When they stopped for the evening, Ahmed sought out Jahhaf for company. The other man pulled a prayer rug out of his belongings and checked a compass that always pointed to Mecca. Standing nearby, watching him, Ahmed was stunned to realize how sorely he had neglected his prayers and rituals.

"Join me?" Jahhaf asked, seeing Ahmed watching him.

Ahmed nodded gratefully and removed his boots, kneeling at Jahhaf's side on the grass. They prostrated and sang softly under their breath.

 _In the name of Allah, most gracious, the most precious  
He is Allah the one and only  
Allah the eternal  
Absolute  
He begets not  
Nor is he begotten  
And there are none like him_

Ahmed felt his heart ache as he prayed, so relieved to feel that he was being a good servant of God once more. His eyes were stinging when he finished his prayers and sat back on his heels.

Jahhaf nodded to him and went to the camp fires to eat.

Ahmed composed himself and followed. As he ate and joined in the conversations, he noticed Herger watching him sullenly.  


 

The next day, Ahmed rode with Jahhaf and they talked more about their pasts.

"My mother was from a noble family, but not my father. He has a business selling wares in Baghdad. Rugs, in large part. I did well in schooling but only wanted to be a poet. My mother supported me the most, until she was taken back into God's arms."

Jahhaf murmured a prayer for her. Ahmed appreciated the gesture.

"My father and I would see each other some, but not frequently. When I was sent from Baghdad as an ambassador, I did not have time to say goodbye. I had to send him a message through his friend and my companion, Melchisidek."

"Why were you sent away?" Jahhaf adjusted a cloth covering his face. The wind was picking up and blowing colder.

"I saw a woman in the caliph's court and became infatuated with her. Everything I wrote for the following two months was dedicated to her. When her husband complained to the caliph, he made me ambassador to the land of the Tossuk Vlad."

Jahhaf thought for a moment. "That is far from Baghdad, yes?"

Ahmed nodded. "Many weeks of travel."

He continued talking throughout the morning, about how he hoped his experiences across the world had humbled him enough to be reaccepted into the caliph's court. To pass the time, he told a few stories from his travels with the Northmen, short stories he'd been forming in his mind to set down in writing later.

Later Jahhaf talked about the kindness his master had shown him and how his master's family had become his own.

"I left my home to find adventure, and for learning," he said simply in his deep voice. "Now I am traveling to Mecca for Hajj. When I do not want to travel any more, I will return to Algiers and find a wife."

Ahmed forced a smile, thinking sorrowfully of his passionate nights with Herger. Who knew what other wildness was still in his soul? Someday he would have to marry and have children of his own, but what of him and Herger? How much more time did they have in each other's presence?

The conversation continued, but Ahmed was more aware of Herger riding in front of him. Occasionally Herger turned his head, seemingly to listen to the conversation behind him, although Ahmed knew he didn't understand Arabic. He felt guilty for excluding his friend, but at the same time he realized how badly he himself was starved for contact, a purer contact than what Herger offered.

He was delighted to be a companion to someone with whom he could identify, someone with a similar cultural background. It made it easier to withstand the cold rain and winds sweeping the landscape. Winter was setting in. The seasons had changed.  


 

A few nights after they had started out from Kiev, Jahhaf and Ahmed were lying on their bedrolls talking quietly. Some noise was coming from around the campfire, but Ahmed was not distracted until he saw Jahhaf's attention straying.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw one of the camp girls crouched over Herger, moving in rhythmic, repetitive motions. In a few short seconds he realized what the noises were, and looked away again. Now the low gasps and feminine moans were much louder to Ahmed's ears.

Jahhaf smiled, obviously embarrassed. "Is it common for your companion to do this?"

Ahmed sighed. "Herger...is a very physical person. He shares his affections with everyone."

"You sound as if you speak from experience. And you have a mark..." Jahhaf gestured to his own neck, reminding Ahmed of the first night in Liubech, when Herger had bit and sucked in one spot for some time while masturbating him with the glove. The memory made a blush rise to his cheeks.

He was worried about saying more, but if they were truly friends, Jahhaf would understand in some way. "I do," he said hesitantly.

Jahhaf shifted on his bedroll, folding his hands over his chest. "Sodomy is a sin, my brother."

"We did not do that," Ahmed said quickly, embarrassed that Jahhaf had come to that conclusion so quickly. "He is not an evil man. He saved my life, has helped me all this way...please do not judge him."

Jahhaf closed his eyes and nodded. "But I will pray for you."

Ahmed thanked him, but he had to get the rest off his chest. "I could not allow him to do that. He began journeying with me after I nearly died. I insulted some other Northmen, and they forced themselves on me before throwing me off the ship. I lost everything I did not have on my body. He even brought Asiya back to me."

Jahhaf's eyes were pitying as he watch Ahmed in the firelight. The noises across the fire pit had stopped. After a moment of silence, Jahhaf whispered, "I am glad you are safe."

Ahmed closed his eyes. "As am I." He listened to the fire and the sound of the wind, trying to clear his mind.

"Do you desire him even now?"

He'd thought the discussion was over, but apparently not. Rolling onto his back, Ahmed pushed his cloak down to his waist to get some air. "No."

Lying to Jahhaf made him feel guilty, but he could not bring himself to speak the truth regarding his own feelings. Perhaps by vocalizing what he wanted to happen, it would be so.

"He watches you intently."

Ahmed shrugged. "He is angry with me. If I were to speak with him about his behavior, he would only rebuke me. I am trying to let this dog lie."

Jahhaf smiled and shook his head ruefully. "I know nothing of these matters. I am still a virgin."

That surprised Ahmed, given Jahhaf's age and where he had come from. He reached out and put his hand on Jahhaf's arm. "Do not desire to be more worldly. That way lies deception and heartache."

 _Deception is the point_ , Herger had once said. It made Ahmed wonder exactly what his intentions had been in trying to bed Ahmed. Simply slaking his lust? He had any number of camp girls and whores available for that, and for going far beyond anything Ahmed had allowed.

Ahmed was a romantic. He wanted to believe that Herger had been pursuing him out of some feeling, some relationship between them. But he was quickly becoming a realist, too. Watching Herger fuck the camp girl had dealt a powerful blow to Ahmed's heart.

In light of Herger's hostility towards him, Ahmed had little choice but to think that there had been no soft feeling toward him in the Northman's heart, at any time. The thought made his own heart ache as much as it ever had in these last few days, and he did not fall asleep for a long time.  


 

Ahmed overslept into the next morning, and had to scramble to pack and eat before the caravan left without him. Herger seemed to take a particular interest in everything he was doing, and heckled him. He spoke in Norse to be able to yell without the others knowing what he was saying, all the better to draw attention and embarrass Ahmed.

"I did not think you would ever wake, Little Brother."

"Oh, is the tea cold, Little Brother?"

"I doubt that pet dog of yours will get you to the Black Sea. Perhaps you should ride with me."

"I think we may find snow today. Are you certain you will be warm enough?"

But the last was the final straw on the camel's back for Ahmed. Herger rode up behind him and said, "You seem to be making good use of those gloves, Little Brother."

He reined in Asiya hard enough that she whinnied and tossed her head. Herger stopped abruptly, grinning nastily.

"I am not your little brother," Ahmed hissed. "And I will thank you to keep your thoughts to yourself."

"I missed you last night, Eben. And the night before that. And the night before that."

"My name is NOT--"

Jahhaf rode up just as Ahmed was losing his temper. He stopped himself from yelling anything more, and looked at his new friend.

"Is everything all right?" Jahhaf asked innocently in Arabic.

Herger said something impolite in Norse and rode off, kicking his horse to a fast gallop. Jahhaf looked at Ahmed inquisitively.

Ahmed shook his head. He could not tell Jahhaf that Herger had said he didn't want to be so close to a man who looked and smelled like he was covered in shit.

Instead he rode after Herger, catching up to him quickly. He had tried words long enough; the Northmen only seemed to understand actions. Swinging a leg over his pommel as Asiya galloped, Ahmed launched himself out of the saddle and knocked Herger off his own horse. They landed heavily in the grass and rolled a short distance.

Herger recovered quickly and gained the upper hand, straddling Ahmed and swinging his fists. Ahmed managed to block a few blows but took one on the cheekbone that made him see stars. He bucked his hips and threw Herger off balance enough to push him away, then sat up. In the distance, Jahhaf was continuing on his way but casting worried looks over his shoulder.

"Why are you doing this?" Ahmed gasped. His chest hurt from the fall and Herger's punches. "Why will you not leave me alone if you despise me so much?"

"I will not share you!"

Ahmed sat back on his heels, surprised speechless.

"You hit me. Twice! I was only trying to please you, and you attacked me! And then you throw yourself at that pig-faced child--"

Ahmed stood, refusing to listen to any more. He got a few steps away before Herger dove at his legs and knocked him down. Ahmed rolled over as Herger crawled onto him. This time Herger grabbed his head and bent down, kissing Ahmed so hard their teeth knocked together.

Ahmed grunted in pain, then stopped fighting. When his body relaxed under Herger, Herger softened the kiss and pulled back slowly. Ahmed stared at him, feeling so conflicted that he couldn't even speak. He didn't know what to do anymore.

Herger looked unnerved; by Ahmed's look or by his own actions, Ahmed couldn't tell. Herger sat back, and Ahmed got to his feet again. Asiya was standing nearby and started over when she saw him rise.

"I will not be made to choose between you and Jahhaf. You mean far more to me than he does, but I need someone like him. He understands who I am. But there is room in my heart for you both, if you wish to be there."

Herger shrugged, not looking at Ahmed as he answered quietly. "I do not know."

Ahmed sighed and got into the saddle. He rode off without looking back.

Jahhaf came up to his side when he caught up to the caravan, but Ahmed shook his head and said, "It is private."  


 

Blowing rain turned to snow, which didn't soak them as quickly but still made travel uncomfortable. He wrapped himself in his cloak as best he could and patted Asiya's neck, crooning to her to keep going.

Ahmed had a lot to think about as he rode. Herger's feelings had become an incomprehensible mixture of jealousy, hate, and desire; the revelation that he still wanted Ahmed didn't make Ahmed feel any better. Now he was less sure how to respond. Returning Herger's attention could result in another painful sodomizing, but ignoring him would incur his wrath. Ahmed felt damned either way.

He decided to take no action, to not give Herger extra attention nor ignore him. He would treat him like any of the other travelers, and hope some peace came of it.

The travelers huddled closer together that night when they camped, and the snow continued to fall. Herger teased and played with the camp girls, keeping them occupied while the rest of the men looked on with jealousy. Herger was in his element, after all.

When they went to sleep that night, Ahmed and Jahhaf took some extra oilcloths and made weak tents for cover, but when the wind blew them down they woke up covered in just as much snow as if they'd never bothered.

Ahmed felt that he was retreating inside himself, his conversations with Jahhaf growing shorter, his prayers less heartfelt. As the days went by, he kept his head down and merely survived.  


 

After more days of traveling south, the weather warmed and the snow stopped. The sun came out from behind its curtain of clouds and shone brightly, making the snow start to melt. Ahmed felt his spirits lift, thinking that they would not have to sleep on snow for another night. But the brightness of the sun on the snow made it hard to see, and the going was slow during the daylight hours. Eventually the clouds and wind returned, and they picked up the pace.

The sun did not bother Jahhaf or Ahmed, but it had not been kind to Herger. After a few days of exposure his skin was burned and tender, and the wind chapping his skin made it worse. Jahhaf offered a salve to help, and Herger surprised Ahmed by accepting it and nodding to Jahhaf in thanks.

"What has changed?" Ahmed asked him a few hours later, when they stopped to eat and water their horses.

Herger glanced at him and continued rearranging things in a saddlebag. "Concerning?"

"How you have been treating me, and Jahhaf."

Herger shrugged. "He helped me. I gave him due gratitude."

Ahmed felt Asiya tug on the reins, and lifted a hand to pat her neck. "I would like to have no animosity between us."

Finding what he was looking for in his saddlebag, Herger pulled out a hoof pick and picked up his horse's right foreleg. There was a significant amount of mud stuck in the hoof, and several rocks. Herger began digging out the debris. "I would like for you to trust me," he said, not looking up as he worked.

"I do trust you!"

Herger straightened so quickly that Ahmed took a step back in apprehension. Herger didn't miss the movement, and his expression showed his disbelief of Ahmed's insistence. "And Kiev? You trusted me there? I spent the night on a table."

"I did not ask you to leave the room."

Herger threw the pick back into his saddlebag and fastened the flap roughly. "What would you have done, if your lover had struck you?"

Ahmed started to say that he was not Herger's lover, then shut his mouth abruptly. Of course he was. He was lying to himself, thinking that he wasn't or had not been. And he was disrespecting Herger with the lies. The realization made his head feel heavy with shame.

"I am so sorry," he whispered. He lifted his hand and touched Herger's shoulder.

Herger turned to him finally. For the first time in many days, his blue eyes were free of aggression. "It's all right." Ahmed shook his head, but Herger touched his wrist and moved away. "We need to go."

When he turned to look, Ahmed saw the caravan moving away. He mounted and turned Asiya to follow, keeping his eyes on Herger as he rode.  


 

That night Ahmed sat next to Herger to eat their supper, and their friendship seemed to be restoring itself by the hour. After eating Herger began telling word puzzles, the sort of complex riddles the Northmen loved to inflict on each other during the long winter nights. A few Ahmed had already heard during his journeys with Herger, and he laughed to see the other caravan travelers trying to figure them out after he'd translated. But his mirth was quelled when he saw Jahhaf watching him steadily, a look of disapproval on his face.

Ahmed put his bedroll next to Jahhaf when he went to sleep later. He whispered, "It is nothing." Jahhaf nodded stiffly and closed his eyes.  


 

As the distance to Kherson grew shorter, Ahmed felt as though his friendship with Herger was restored. He remembered feeling so left out and confused at the way the Northmen were always laughing among themselves, despite rain or snow or fierce winds. Now he found himself sharing the same enjoyment of life with Herger, and saw Jahhaf being left out. He did his best to maintain a connection to both friends, but Jahhaf and Herger were both too proud and too uncertain of the other man to grant Ahmed's wishes. He began to feel as though he was strung up between two trees, for all their stubbornness.

It didn't help that Jahhaf grew more suspicious of Ahmed's friendship with Herger. Nor did Herger help matters, as he began taking great pleasure in teasing Jahhaf with jokes directed at him and smug faces. Ahmed knew all too well that the language barrier did not stop the sting of Herger's jabs.

He began spending more time with Jahhaf again to make him feel more accepted, talking about Hajj and the Qu'ran, and Ahmed's life in Baghdad. At least now Herger seemed to understand why Ahmed spent so much time with Jahhaf, but it didn't stop the teasing.

But Jahhaf could not complain. Herger's presence in the caravan was considered valuable, for the Northmen's renowned reputation as warriors. The cost of their passage was less and the caravan leaders treated Herger with respect. Soon the reason became clear, when Herger and Ahmed noticed yelling coming from the front of the caravan.

"Tartars! Tartars! Leave the goods and run!"

Herger and Ahmed exchanged glances, then Herger pulled his sword from its scabbard. Ahmed galloped over to a camel and reached over to grab at the cargo on its back, tearing at the bindings while the camel shifted nervously and Asiya tried to step away. He was nearly pulled out of the saddle but managed to get to the cache of weapons some trader was taking to port, and pulled out a broadsword.

Pushing the camel away toward the fleeing caravan, he kicked Asiya hard and rode after Herger, toward the dust on the horizon.

He thanked Allah again for Asiya; she was small but quick, maneuvering quickly through the heavy, slower horses of the Tartars. He swung his sword at a few riders and connected with one man's arm, but the impact threw him off balance in the saddle. He could not fight like this.

When another Tartar rode toward him, Ahmed jumped from the saddle onto his opponent. He knocked the man down and rolled into the grass with him, blocking a swing from the man's sword and jabbing his own sword into the man's chest. He stood unsteadily and looked up to see Herger finish another kill. Two other bodies already lay on the ground, one of them the man Ahmed had hit in the arm. He was writhing in pain, his arm undoubtedly broken.

The remaining Tartars yelled something among themselves. Ahmed realized they were pulling their own horses around in a curve, heading off into another direction.

"Ha! You see that? Two against thirty!" Herger ran to his horse and mounted. "We will be renowned the world over for the Tartars fearing us."

Ahmed smiled until he noticed the Tartars trying to get Asiya in their group, herding her away from him. He dropped the sword and started running across the field, knowing that he would not get to her in time. The Tartars were riding hard and he was too far away. But then Herger's horse cut him off.

Herger rode hard while notching an arrow in his bow, and let a warning shot fly when he was close enough to the Tartars. The man holding on to Asiya's bridle jerked away, allowing Herger to cull her from the group.

Ahmed retrieved the borrowed sword and took Asiya's bridle when Herger came back with her. He patted her neck and leaned his head against her nose, panting to catch his breath.

Part of him noticed Herger staying nearby, waiting, not leaving him in the field. When Ahmed was ready he got back into the saddle and turned Asiya toward the reassembling caravan, looking over at Herger. He caught his gaze and looked meaningfully at him, trying to convey all the gratitude he felt. It was the second time Herger had gone out of his way to save Asiya for him.

"Thank you."

Herger blinked and shrugged, quickly putting himself ahead of Ahmed as they rode back.

After they rejoined the caravan, the entire group took a break to recoup and rest. Jahhaf did not like watching Ahmed clean the blood off his borrowed sword, but could not deny that Ahmed's and Herger's methods had kept the caravan from being destroyed.  


 

When they continued after their rest, Ahmed began talking with Jahhaf about the poets he'd known in Baghdad, friends he had spent afternoons with drinking chai and creating impromptu poetry. He mentioned that one or two of his friends had been notorious homosexuals, and Jahhaf interrupted him.

"I hope you will not become like them."

Ahmed stopped talking and twisted in the saddle to look at Jahhaf. "Why would you say that?"

Jahhaf jerked his head to the riders behind them. "You have become friendly with your companion again."

Ahmed nodded. "We settled our argument. Allah looks favorably on reconciliation."

"He does not look favorably on physical love between two men. I have seen the way Herger looks at you."

"Looks mean nothing!" Ahmed knew what Muhammad's Hadith said, and the Qu'ran. He was growing irritated with Jahhaf's tendency to lecture. "I thank you for your concern, but I am responsible for my own actions. Herger helped me immensely today. He helped us all. I did not see you joining the fight. Perhaps you should keep your opinions to yourself until you have the courage to back up your words with actions."

Jahhaf stiffened in the saddle. "You are right," he said, obviously playing the wounded martyr. "Thank you for your guidance. As my elder, of course you know best."

Ahmed knew sarcasm when he heard it. He decided to ignore it.

Herger took that moment to ride up and kick Asiya in the side. He knew Asiya would bolt ahead at a fast gallop, and she did not disappoint, nearly throwing Ahmed out of the saddle. Herger guffawed and kicked his own horse, trailing behind and laughing as Ahmed tried to bring himself to a more comfortable pace. When Ahmed settled Asiya and slowed to the pace of the caravan, he saw Jahhaf ride by with a stony expression.

When they stopped later, Herger started to approach him but Ahmed shook his head. He walked Asiya over to Jahhaf, who was sitting in the grass eating some bread and meat. Asiya snorted and nudged Ahmed, who got out some grain from his saddlebag for her to eat from his hand.

"Is this how our friendship will end, Jahhaf? With distrust and anger?"

Jahhaf shook his head. "I am on a holy pilgrimage. I cannot be friend to a man who sins."

Ahmed patted Asiya and tugged on her reins, stepping back. His head and heart were both aching now. "Then you will be hard pressed to find any friends in this world, Jahhaf, for you accuse me of crimes I have not committed. You have no understanding in your heart."

He got into the saddle and looked up to see Herger watching them. "Tomorrow you will go to Caffa, and we will go to Kherson," he said, holding Herger's gaze as he spoke. "God be with you on your journey."

That night he suggested to Herger that they stay apart while Jahhaf was still with the caravan. Herger nodded, and Ahmed was left alone while he ate and made his bed.

The solitude gave him time to think. He wondered if Jahhaf was more right than Ahmed wanted to believe; if his feelings for Herger meant sin no matter what they did.

But he was a good person, a hero to many left behind in Jutland. Herger was an even better man than he, in many respects.

He sat and listened to the talk around the camp fires, to Herger talking easily in Latin and laughing over some joke. Some Rus traders were drunk and began a loud song to celebrate that fact, and Herger joined in. Ahmed watched him laugh and listened to him sing with a voice full of passion for life.

Seeing him in good cheer again gave Ahmed hope for a full reconciliation. Whether or not their relationship was sexual did not matter to him. He only wanted the feeling of being accepted as a brother, cared for and looked after, while he did the same for Herger in return, as equals. If Jahhaf or any other holy man of Islam could not fill that need in Ahmed, perhaps Allah was leading him elsewhere.

Perhaps it did not matter if Islam rejected him. He still loved Allah, and he had to believe Allah loved him and would not lead him astray. Without that conviction, he had nothing. That was all that mattered.

The caravan broke into two groups the next day. Herger waited until the second group was a speck on the horizon before riding up to Ahmed. "And now?" he asked quietly.

Ahmed managed a smile for him. "Now we go to Constantinople."


	8. Chapter 8

Ahmed and Herger arrived in Kherson without incident. Once at the port city, however, they were stuck until a ship was available to take them across the Black Sea.

Ahmed discovered that Romanium ships didn't sail in the winter because they were not hardy enough for the weather. Herger found that to be ridiculous, as the Northmen's ships were capable of handling the water in any weather. He was irritated about the topic every time they spoke about it thereafter, and it made conversations difficult at times.

Eventually they found a Greek ship to take them to Constantinople. The voyage would take one week. As he had feared, Ahmed's sea sickness returned as soon as they came into open water.

The sailors manning the vessel slept in hammocks in the hold. Ahmed asked for one of his own, in the hopes that being cradled in fabric would be better than lying on a hard floor. They reluctantly complied. As he had guessed, he felt better suspended, so the swaying of the ship was not as obvious to his stomach.

He hated being bed-bound, but at least he wasn't vomiting. He was merely committed to a persistent nausea that exhausted him and reduced his appetite to a level so low Herger occasionally forced food onto him.

Meanwhile, Herger helped pay their way by pulling his weight on the deck of the ship, but when he wasn't on shift he spent his evenings in the hold with Ahmed. With little else to entertain himself, Ahmed continued mentally working on his poem for Buliwyf. Each night he'd tell a little more of the tale to Herger, both to entertain him and to check the facts.

Herger seemed to like listening to him. Ahmed's voice and the rhythm of the poetry lulled Herger into a quiet, meditative state in which Ahmed rarely saw him. In this mood he would feel comfortable enough to engage in quiet conversations with Ahmed.

During those discussions, Ahmed felt as though he had hardly known the man he'd been spending months with. Without violence or the difficulties of their environment to distract them, they were developing the sort of friendship Ahmed had hoped for.

And at the end of the night, when everyone in the hold was asleep or drunk and before Herger bedded down, he'd lean over Ahmed's hammock and deliver a long, soft kiss. More than once they were nearly caught at it, so that it quickly became imbued with the thrill of getting caught. Some nights Herger laughed against Ahmed's mouth and pulled back grinning.

After a few days, Ahmed finally acclimated to the motion of the boat and started to feel better. He joined Herger on the deck during the days, and was restored by the daylight and fresh air. But the frequently cloudy skies and rain made being on deck uncomfortable at times.

Finally Ahmed woke one day to hear the sound of sailors rushing around on the deck above him. He could hear shore birds, too, and they meant one thing: land.

The hatch opened and Herger's legs appeared on the ladder. He bent and looked over at Ahmed in his hammock. "We must go, Little Brother."

Ahmed scrambled out of his bed and hastily gathered his things. Finally, after months of travel, they had reached a destination of sorts.  


 

They rode through the streets of the nearest district, making their way through throngs of people. Ahmed heard Latin, Arabic, Greek, and Allah knew what other languages filling the air to become a deafening roar. The smell of perfume, sweat, excrement, rich food, and incense all clashed to make Ahmed simultaneously nostalgic for home and disgusted by the lower standards of hygiene in western cities.

Animals and people filled the streets, making it difficult for anyone to move. It was so crowded that Ahmed could feel people pressing against him even as he sat mounted in the saddle. Herger finally kicked his mount to start plowing through the throng, the horse's sheer size clearing the way.

Ahmed asked around for an inn, and was directed down a side street. Herger took the horses to find a stable while Ahmed arranged for a room.

When the innkeeper announced his fee, Ahmed reluctantly reached for his purse. Constantinople was much more expensive than anywhere else they had been yet, and as he removed his purse from his belt, he realized it was getting dangerously light. But he was not certain Herger would want to sleep in the same room with him, given the tenuous state of their renewed friendship. On the other hand, Herger might be insulted by being separated from Ahmed in their sleeping situation. He decided to take a chance and paid for an extra room.

After he was shown upstairs to the two single-bed rooms he had rented, Ahmed set down his saddlebags and went back down to the street to wait for Herger.

It was not hard to spot Herger in the crowd. He was the only one with blond hair, and his striding gait and spirited demeanor set him apart from the merchants and slaves who had never seen the outside of the city's walls. He looked disgruntled as he approached.

"What is wrong?" Ahmed called in Norse when Herger was in hearing range.

Herger shook his head and stomped into the inn. "I hate Romans," he grumbled. "Where are our rooms?"

Ahmed led him upstairs and pointed out the free room of the two he had rented. "I want to find a patron while I am here. My father, and his friend Melchisidek, may be known well enough here that I may find a benefactor."

Herger shrugged and flopped onto the bed, folding his arms under his head. "Do whatever you like. Wake me for supper."

Ahmed started for the door, then hesitated. "I had thought I would go to the bathhouse first. Are you sure you would not like to go with me?"

Herger snorted and did not open his eyes. "I think not."

Ahmed left him to rest.  


 

He visited a bathhouse to quickly make himself more presentable, just to get the smell of their traveling and his recent sickness off his skin. When he saw how glorious the bathhouse was, he wished he could spend more time there, and decided immediately that he would convince Herger to go with him at some point.

But he had other needs to fulfill first.

He went to some Persian shop keepers and asked where he might find the residence of his father's friend, the merchant Methodius Maniaces. When he obtained an answer, he continued to make his way through the market places until he found a scribe's workshop.

"Do you have parchment to sell?"

Arabic or Chinese paper would be better for a first impression, but it was also more expensive. The old man running the shop looked at Ahmed's purse and said, "Paper?"

Ahmed hesitated, thrift and vanity warring. "Parchment."

The scribe pulled a sheet off a stack on a shelf and held out his hand. Ahmed dropped one of his coins into the palm. The scribe looked at it and said, "More."

"That is what I pay for parchment in Baghdad."

The scribe laughed haughtily. "This is not Baghdad."

Ahmed drew the strings closed on his purse. "Give me half the sheet, then."

The scribe did as he asked, and sold him a cheap pen and ink as well. Ahmed then took his purchases to a cook shop. While a cup of some Greek tea cooled at his elbow, he wrote out a letter of introduction for himself, including names of his connections and family history. When he had finished, he returned to the inn and summoned a slave boy.

"Deliver this to the home of Methodius Maniaces, the merchant. You know it?"

The boy nodded. Ahmed gave him some coin and sent him off, then returned to his room.

Herger was inside it when he entered.

"I could not sleep," he explained, getting up from Ahmed's bed. Ahmed saw the contents of his saddlebags spread out on the mattress. It appeared that Herger had been toying with his ogal. Ahmed felt simultaneously irritated that Herger had been in his possessions, and pleased that Herger was apparently curious about him. He decided to let it go without comment.

"Shall we eat?"

Herger nodded, and they went to the main floor to have food from the kitchen. While they were eating, the slave boy came up to their table.

"The house of Methodius Maniaces will admit you on the morrow, in the afternoon," he reported breathlessly. He stared at Herger as he spoke. Herger gave him a playful sneer and took a large bite of chicken off the bone, intentionally looking barbaric. The boy's eyes widened.

Ahmed patted him on the shoulder. "Thank you. One more thing," he added when the boy seemed about to flee. "I need my clothes cleaned tonight and ready by tomorrow. Come up to my room in one hour to get them."

The boy nodded. Herger gave a growl and started guzzling from his mug of ale. The boy gave him a leery look and scampered off.

When they finished eating and went upstairs, Herger followed Ahmed into his room and closed the door behind them. He squinted at Ahmed in the low light of the oil lamp Ahmed lit.

"What is it you Arabs wear around your eyes?"

Ahmed had nearly forgotten that he'd had some kohl applied at the bathhouse. It had been so long since he had run out of his own stores that he wasn't used to wearing it again.

"Kohl," he answered. Herger leaned closer and sniffed.

"You are perfumed," he said disgustedly.

"I am _clean_ ," Ahmed retorted. "I do not stink of horses and body odor and rotting food. Perhaps you are simply not used to smelling something different from yourself."

Herger laughed and clapped him hard on the shoulder. "Your sense of humor has improved, Little Brother. Now," he continued, eyes sparkling, "what should we do to pass the time?"

"I do not--" Ahmed broke off at a knock on the door. He brushed by Herger and answered it.

It was the slave. "Ah yes, my clothes," Ahmed muttered to himself. He looked over at Herger. "I must undress. I bid you good night."

Herger smirked and went across the hall to his own room. Ahmed gestured for the boy to come in, then quickly undressed and gave him his pants, shirt, tunic, and boots. The tunic needed mending in a few places and the boots could use a shining, but everything else merely needed the dust knocked out of it.

Stripped down to his libas, Ahmed was much colder and felt vulnerable in the open air. It was warmer in Constantinople than in Kiev, but still winter.

He got into the bed and added his cloak to the covers. The frantic pace of the afternoon had caught up with him, and he fell asleep quickly.

He did not even wake when his door opened. It was only when a weight pressed down on the mattress that he woke, his eyes opening quickly as his heart started pounding.

"Are you naked?" Herger's voice, warm and low, came through the dark.

Ahmed sighed and dropped his head back to the pillow. "No."

"A shame, that." There was a rustle of clothing, a brush of hair on Ahmed's face, and then Herger's mouth was on his. Ahmed opened his mouth immediately, exhaling when Herger's tongue touched his.

They kissed for a little while, Ahmed's arousal slowly growing like fire burning damp wood. He was tired and still a little fearful of where Herger was going, but the kissing still felt good enough to draw up his heat.

Eventually Herger murmured, "Wait," and pulled away. Ahmed heard the sound of clothes rustling again, and in a few moments Herger pulled back the covers and slipped into the bed. Ahmed made room and waited for his next move.

Herger took all of the extra room and then some, lying partially on top of Ahmed. The amount of hot skin touching him was a delightful shock. Herger kissed him and put a hand on his chest, stroking all over.

It had been many days since Polotsk, but Ahmed clearly remembered the pleasure of Herger toying with his nipples, and hissed approvingly when his hands sought them out now. Ahmed raised his own hands and did the same, exploring Herger's chest entirely by touch, something he had never done before.

They began to move against each other urgently, hips rocking. Herger spread his legs so that he straddled Ahmed's pelvis, then sat up suddenly.

Ahmed shivered to feel the fur fall away off Herger's back, but Herger made up for it by pushing his groin into Ahmed's hardness. Ahmed lifted his hips and worked his libas down his thighs, with Herger helping. Then Herger braced one hand on Ahmed's chest and wrapped the fingers of his other hand around their cocks, squeezing and stroking.

His hips took up a new rhythm; forward and back, dragging up and grinding down, moving much like the camp girl had when Jahhaf had seen them. Ahmed groaned and slid his hands up Herger's ribs, holding him as he moved.

"You smell good," Herger whispered suddenly. He didn't break his rhythm.

Ahmed stared up at him in what little light came in through the window shutters. "Wh...what?"

"Your scent. I like it." Herger leaned down, hips still moving. He licked up the center of Ahmed's chest, his neck and chin, and kissed him deeply. "I want to smell my come on you."

Ahmed let out a strangled moan. He felt his cock throb and begin to spurt, and Herger's hand sped up between them.

Herger pressed his face into Ahmed's neck. "Yes, that's it," he hissed.

Ahmed's climax surged through him. He dug his fingers into Herger's back and ground up against him, feeling Herger's fingers get slick and loose with his emissions. Herger moaned and jerked on top of him.

Ahmed hardly had a chance to catch his breath when Herger slid down his body, mouth dragging along his skin until it reached Ahmed's belly. Ahmed had thought his arousal had been sated, but he moaned and moved his hips eagerly when Herger began lapping up their combined fluids. Not in his wildest dreams had he imagined Herger doing this, but it felt wonderful.

When his skin was clean, Herger pulled his undergarment back up his hips and slid up Ahmed's body, settling at his side with the covers over them. Drowsy and replete, Ahmed closed his eyes.

He awoke later, realizing with alarm that it was late and he had not been sleeping alone.

Herger was behind him, the two of them lying on their sides in the bed like a pair of curled feathers. Herger had an arm under Ahmed's neck and the other hand resting on Ahmed's hip, innocent, but in a way that just drove Ahmed to distraction.

Herger stirred, feeling that Ahmed had awoken. He pressed his mouth sleepily between Ahmed's shoulder blades and said something. Ahmed strained to listen.

"Ahmed...Eben...Fahdlan. Eben Al Abbas. Eben Rashid. Eben..."

"Hamad," Ahmed provided.

"Eben means..."

"Son of." He finally had the words to say it in Herger's language.

Herger lifted his head and moved his free hand. Ahmed felt a fingertip draw up his spine and press on the spot where Herger's mouth had been resting. "...Ahmed."

Ahmed rolled over, facing Herger. The sky was lightening; he could see him better now. "You can call me Eben."

Herger looked at him for a little while, then smiled faintly and shook his head. His hand between them started brushing absently against Ahmed's belly.

Ahmed watched him back for a little while, the little smile on Herger's lips and the little brushes against his belly slowly stirring his arousal. Eventually Ahmed's length grew enough for Herger's hand to brush it. Herger grinned and reached into Ahmed's libas, wrapping his fingers around it.

"You see how it can be between us?"

Ahmed closed his eyes and nodded. Herger's mouth brushed his, lips playing softly.

He was being so tender, a far cry from the brusque rushing in Kiev. Perhaps he'd realized what he had done wrong, and wanted to show Ahmed that he knew better. Or maybe he did not think anything of his manner in Kiev, and this was merely another facet of his personality. Ahmed couldn't tell, but he was grateful for the change.

He moved his own hand between them, finding Herger's cock and stroking it too. Herger sighed but didn't deepen the kiss, keeping it all slow and simple.

Ahmed felt his heart warmed by quiet happiness of finding pleasure in another's touch, and using touch to please another. The feeling continued after they both reached their climaxes again. Herger sighed and curled closer to Ahmed, their legs intertwining.

"You cannot be here when the boy comes back," Ahmed whispered. He played his hand over Herger's face, feeling the range of textures between skin, eyelashes, eyebrows, beard, lips. Herger bit his thumb and released it.

"I know."

They kissed a final time, and then Herger slipped out of the bed. Ahmed tried to watch him dress, but his eyes grew heavy again with the post-coital stupor.

"Good night," he whispered. He heard Herger return the blessing and close the door quietly.  


 

The boy woke him by knocking on the door. Ahmed collected his clothes and sighed when he saw them in the full light of day. His tunic was unforgivably shabby. He would have to buy something new before seeing Maniaces.

Herger's door was still closed when he came out, so he left word with the innkeeper that he was going out into the city. He found an Arabic family selling clothing from his culture, but everything they had was all very expensive for what he had left in his purse. But he needed something, and perhaps he could sell the robe again after wearing it once.

He was looking at basic black tunics and robes when the proprietor came over and asked to help.

"I have an appointment with a prospective patron later today," Ahmed explained. "But I have been traveling for many months. I want to look my best but my funds are limited."

The tailor nodded and said, "I have just the thing." He disappeared into a back room, then came back with a robe in a bold blue color, with silver embroidery and decorative silver buttons.

Ahmed wanted the robe, but the price the tailor gave for it was well beyond what he could afford at the moment. He regretfully declined.

Tenacious as any shop owner worth his salt, the tailor pressed him on it. Ahmed continued to demur until the man said, "I will make you a deal. I sell you this garment at half the cost. If you find your patronage, return here and I will tailor anything you want."

It was a remarkable offer, and Ahmed knew he was making it to get return business. He immediately accepted. The tailor fit the robe to him and made the necessary alterations within an hour. While he worked, Ahmed picked out a simple white turban to cover his head.

The price of the clothing left him with two coins in his purse.

It was still only midday when Ahmed left the tailor's shop, and he was hungry, but he didn't want to spend any more money than he had to. He could skip a few meals. Instead he found directions to the Methodius home, and walked there.

"I am Ahmed ibn Fahdlan," he announced to the slave who opened the main door. The slave bowed and stepped back, allowing Ahmed inside.

He was led through the cool, dim central rooms and a quiet, sunny courtyard to a far wing of the sprawling single-level house. The slave opened a door to what seemed to be a visiting room, then bowed again and left him, all without a word.

He entered the room and saw a woman sitting on a Greek-style divan. He looked around, but they were the only two in the room.

"I am Ahmed ibn Fahdlan," he said, going to one knee in a formal bow.

"I am Irene Sophianos, wife of Methodius Maniaces," the woman said. He sensed from the quality of her voice that she was approximately the age of Ahmed's mother had been when she died. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he took note of her appearance out of the corner of his eye.

She wore an undyed linen _tunica_ covered by a _dalmatica_ , both heavily decorated with elaborate _clavi_ , the bands of ornamentation woven into the fabric. Bright silk threads, Venetian glass beads, pearls, and other small precious stones flowed from her shoulders to the hem of her garment, accenting the way the garments fitted her shapely figure. Her dark hair was gathered at her neck in the braided style worn by women, though some curls escaped to frame her face. A gauzy veil covered her hair, attached by a silver pearl-encrusted comb.

"Methodius is no longer with us," she continued, reaching for a tea tray. "He died in the past summer. He went out on the sea to visit some trading centers, and was lost."

"I am sorry, madam." Ahmed's heart fell. Irene would have no use for him, and he would have to find work in the streets.

"Rise and be seated, ibn Fahdlan. Why did you wish to meet with my husband?"

Ahmed took a seat on a stool and accepted a cup of tea from her. He saw that he had been right; she was in her early forties. Her hands were small and dainty, with colorful rings that winked as she passed the cup. From his seat close to her, he could now see that her eyes and skin were nearly as dark as his own.

"I have just arrived in the city from traveling for many months. I am accompanied by my friend, a Northman. I do not know where my travels will take me next, but I hope to return to my home in Baghdad."

"But you are in need of funds," Irene finished for him.

Ahmed nodded. She smiled and reached over, brushing her fingers over his collar.

"That robe was made for my husband, to wear on his journeys to Persia. He never had a chance to claim it from the tailor before he disappeared." Fingering a button, she added, "These I chose for him, and the trim."

Ahmed's face burned with embarrassment, but Irene did not seem to want to humiliate him with the knowledge of his poverty. She merely sipped her tea and continued.

"I read your letter. You are indeed a man of beautiful words. And languages, you said."

"Arabic, Latin, Norse, some Greek," Ahmed supplied.

"You should be able to pick up more languages quickly, then."

He nodded.

"Obviously you can write, and have lovely penmanship." She managed the curious blend of dignity and admiration that the elite learn from birth. "Can you write many languages too?"

"Arabic and Latin, and a little of the Northmen's system of runes. I am good with Greek if I can study." Ahmed smiled.

Irene laughed quietly, a musical sound. She gave a tiny cough and sipped more tea. "Your father is a businessman, a merchant too."

"I learned many things from my father before I left Baghdad."

"Why did you leave?"

The question took him by surprise, and he was reluctant to answer. Still, he told her honestly, "The caliph sent me away to appease a man in his court. I desired the man's wife."

"Have you a woman now?"

Ahmed shook his head and remembered his tea. He took a sip to give himself time to form his answer, one that was honest without revealing too much. "I have no woman. I have been traveling, and--"

"So you said."

Ahmed bit his tongue, embarrassed to be repeating himself like a fool and wasting a moment of Irene's time.

"Well, ibn Fahdlan, let me take another look at you." Irene lit a lamp and Ahmed stood in front of her. She turned him around by the elbows, then stepped back to give a long, measuring look. She hardly came up to his shoulders. He found her unspeakably charming.

"You are intelligent, polite, well-mannered, and talented. If you would stay in Constantinople for some time, I have need of your services. You would be my personal secretary and translator. Occasionally I may call on you to advise me on matters of my business. I am managing it until my sons may take over."

"You have children, madam?"

She nodded. "Two sons, both children still. I also have a daughter; she is of the age to marry."

Ahmed smiled. It seemed that he would not have to be a shop keeper, and instead would be working at tasks he was good at performing. He might also have the opportunity to write poetry. He imagined he could write a great deal of poetry for Irene.

"I would be honored to be in your service, madam." He bowed his head in thanks, heart pounding with excitement.

Irene nodded and stepped away, putting their tea cups on the tray. "You will stay here, in rooms I will have appointed for you. Will your Northman be joining you?"

"I do not know what he plans or wishes to do, madam. Will his presence be a problem for you?"

"Not unless it is a problem for you," Irene countered. She smiled and gave a flash of small white teeth, teasing. Ahmed returned the smile and folded his hands.

"One more thing, madam. I wish to send a message to my father. Do you have a caravan to Baghdad I may use?"

Irene nodded once. "Come in the morning tomorrow, with your note." She adjusted her garment and stepped toward the door, obviously excusing him. Ahmed went to open the door for her and found the manservant already a step ahead of him.

"Good afternoon, Ahmed," Irene told him, and left.


	9. Chapter 9

Ahmed returned to the inn with his heart soaring after his meeting with Irene Sophianos. He saw Herger's door open a crack, and knocked before entering.

Herger looked up from his seat on the floor. He had thrown open the shutters to get a good patch of sunlight to work in, and was whittling a chunk of wood, forming some sort of sculpture out of it. As Ahmed entered and closed the door behind him, Herger gave him a sweeping look from head to toe before putting his attention back to the task at hand.

"That looks new."

Ahmed adjusted the cuffs of his robe. "A strange story, in fact. The tailor made me a bargain, and I discovered later that Maniaces had ordered this made for himself."

"You saw the man wearing his own clothes?"

"He is dead. I saw his wife." Ahmed sat down on the bed, bracing his arms on his knees and leaning forward excitedly. "Her name is Irene Sophianos. She is lovely; intelligent and astute, accomplished, a mother and a business woman. Her house is glorious, dark and cool, with tapestries and statues in her sitting room. Her servants hardly made a sound. She herself has smooth skin like polished wood, and she wore a great deal of finery, silks and jewels.

"I thought perhaps I had stumbled onto a goddess," he mused, hardly caring that he was babbling when Herger just went on carving wood. "She wants me to move to her home tomorrow morning, and you may come as well." He hesitated, suddenly unsure. "If you would like...I had hoped...you were going to stay. With me."

Herger laughed. "What is that? A marriage proposal?"

Ahmed sighed and stood, pacing across the small room. "I am being serious. If you wish to stay, that is fine. I am alerting you to the fact that I can now continue to support us."

Herger jerked his knife free and hacked at a particularly stubborn bit of wood. "You do not need to provide for me."

"But I have been. You would not be here if you weren't for me. You helped me when I desperately needed you; you saved my life. There's no way I can repay that."

Herger shrugged. "It is what one friend would do for another."

"And last night?" Ahmed crouched next to Herger, waiting for him to meet his gaze, then continued when Herger looked up. "Is that what friends do for each other?"

Herger smiled as he continued carving. "That is lust, my friend."

Ahmed doubted Herger would take him seriously; not now, in any case. He stood and went to the door. "I have not eaten today, so I am going downstairs."

"Do what you like," Herger murmured, continuing with his whittling. "I care not."

That stung, but Ahmed believed Herger did not mean to hurt him. It was merely his usual manner, his tongue sharp as always.

He left and ate an early dinner of fish flavored with verjuice and a variety of herbs. The inn was loud on the main level, filled with men, women, and children of all races and social standings. Barmaids and patrons bumped his chair and brushed against his clothing, but no one would give him a single glance. When he was finished eating he immediately retired to his room for the night.

But he could not sleep immediately. He felt restless, and spent a few hours trying to find something to dispel his anxiety about the changes his life was about to take. He was not certain how his employment with Irene would be, whether she would be a fair and just benefactress or a schemer eager to use him in whatever way would elevate her status. He knew from experience that the courts and sitting rooms of the upper classes could be rife with intrigue and deception. It was part of why he had come to enjoy the company of the Northmen; they had cared not for such foolishness.

For a while he watched the crowds in the street below his window. As a large city, Constantinople was active late into the night, and the area around the inn was especially active. When he tired of the noise and activity, he closed the shutter and lay on the bed for a while, lost in thought. When he was ready to undress and blow out the lamp, he gave a prayer to Allah in thanks for his good fortune in finding Irene, and a plea for guidance and mercy in the days ahead. He was about toe off his boots when the door banged open. He looked up in alarm.

Herger entered, weaving drunk. He began to shed his clothes as soon as he'd kicked the door shut again. But he fumbled with a boot and lost balance, crashing to the floor on his backside. Ahmed knelt next to him, pulling him up by his arms.

"Where did you get money for drink?"

Herger pushed hair out of his eyes and went back to sorting out his boot lacing. "I ask for it and they give it to me. They are afraid to refuse."

"I will probably be settling your account tomorrow," Ahmed muttered, knowing Herger wasn't hearing him. "But you will be sick tonight. Why did you have to drink so heavily?"

"Don't act like you don't know," Herger slurred.

"I do not!"

"You have to make things confusing." Herger finished getting his boots off and pulled his shirt over his head. Ahmed saw a flash of black on his skin and frowned, bewildered. Herger went on, "You babble about that old woman like you are in love with her, and then you want me to..."

Ahmed distracted him with a touch.

Ahmed had seen tattoos before, but never in such abundance, and not on Herger's pale skin. He wore an intricate, curving weave on his shoulder blade, and it spread across his arm and upper chest in the form of a snarling sea monster. The jaws of the beast were poised around Herger's left nipple, ready to bite. Other smaller designs were on his other arm and up his sides.

All the other times Herger had been shirtless, it had been too dark to see this skin decoration. After all the intimacies they had shared recently, seeing this simple thing was just as pleasurable. Ahmed found each one fascinating and beautiful.

"I have not seen these," he said finally.

Herger grinned and pushing him back, laying him out flat on the floor and crawling on top of him. "You like them?"

Ahmed rubbed the head of the monster and heard Herger rumble quietly with arousal. "I do. But what has you in this mood?" he asked, pushing on Herger's chest. Herger spread his legs and locked them around Ahmed's hips, tenacious as a vine.

"Did the men in the bath see you naked?"

Ahmed was having trouble following Herger's inebriated thoughts, but tried to answer honestly. "No. It is not polite to be naked in the bathhouse." He again tried to get out from under Herger.

"What about Irene? Did she? Do you want her to?" Herger was writhing on top of him, shifting and tightening his grip as Ahmed tried to dislodge him.

"No! Stop this, this instant!" Ahmed stopped pushing on Herger's shoulders, figuring that maybe he could talk Herger into getting off of him. "Are you jealous?"

Herger made a frustrated growl and pressed his forearm across Ahmed's chest, pinning him further. "I do not want to share you."

"So you have said before. But you are not sharing me, so stop this foolishness." Frustrated too, Ahmed grabbed a fistful of Herger's hair and shook his head a little to drive the point home.

Herger's eyes blazed with sudden lust. He pulled against Ahmed's grip, making the tension on his hair even tighter. In that moment, Ahmed remembered that Buliwyf had grabbed him like this while fucking him hard.

"You like this?" he murmured to Herger, echoing him from a moment earlier. Herger's mouth dropped open in a pant. Inspired, Ahmed released his hair and reached down to unfasten the closure of Herger's trousers, pulling the panels apart.

Herger immediately helped him, rolling over and wriggling out of the tight pants. When he was free of them he straddled Ahmed again and lowered his head for a kiss. Ahmed averted his face, then grabbed Herger's hair again when Herger started sucking on his neck.

"I will not do this on the floor. Let me up."

Herger got off him with only that request. Ahmed ruefully noted this, thinking that perhaps the way to make Herger more agreeable was through his cock. He could accept that.

He stood and removed his robe, putting it on a wall peg with his turban. Perhaps Herger's willingness to comply was partly due to his state of drunkenness, or perhaps the hair pulling trick was the key. Either way, Ahmed was enjoying it.

He removed his tunic and shirt before turning around, toeing off his boots. He had to brace himself on the wall to keep from falling over.

Herger had gotten into the bed and was watching him, one hand between his legs. He was playing with himself, stroking his cock and his balls. Ahmed had never seen anything so wantonly sexual on display for him.

He would have to be a eunuch or a prude to refuse the obvious offer. He was neither.

He approached the bed and turned to remove his trousers, not feeling at all comfortable with stripping for someone's viewing pleasure the way Herger had. When he got his pants and libas to his thighs, he sat on the bed to remove them completely. He heard Herger make another growling sound just before arms wound around him and a hot mouth pressed to his shoulder. He felt teeth sink into his skin and shuddered. It felt good, to be bitten, when they were both in this teeth-baring mood.

"Will you fuck me, Little Brother?" Herger whispered in his ear, breath smelling of wine.

Ahmed hesitated. He had given the matter some thought, as much time as he had used thinking about the night he'd seen Herger and Buliwyf. But he couldn't bring himself to hurt Herger the way he himself had been hurt, even if it was what Herger wanted. He just wasn't capable.

He shook his head. Herger bit him again and let him go.

"You are still afraid."

Ahmed turned, bracing a hand on the bed. "Just because a man does not want to do something does not mean he is afraid."

"What, then?"

"I refuse to hurt you."

Herger laughed loudly, shaking his head. He stretched out over the bed, limbs flexing like a cat getting comfortable in the sun. "I have told you before that it does not hurt. You will not let me prove it to you or convince you of the matter. Must I be the one to please me?"

"I hardly think you have always relied on others to please you, Herger."

Herger sighed heavily. He rubbed his belly in a distracted gesture, then rolled over and got onto his knees. "It does not matter. Come here, Ahmed."

Ahmed swung his feet into the bed and stretched out. As Herger leaned over him, he murmured, "You said my name."

Herger responded by lying down on top of him and kissing him deeply. He started the same slow grinding writhe, rubbing himself against Ahmed and moaning softly.

Ahmed's body inevitably reacted, his penis lengthening and hardening under Herger's stomach. His passion grew as well, stoked by Herger's frantic movements and hard kisses. Remembering what had worked so well earlier, he grabbed another handful of Herger's hair and jerked lightly.

Herger responded by biting Ahmed's lip and taking one of his hands, pulling it across his body until his fingers touched Herger's cleft. Ahmed did nothing more, and that irritated Herger enough to break the kiss with a sound of dissatisfaction.

"Put your fingers in me."

Ahmed shook his head emphatically, releasing Herger's hair. "No."

Herger swore. "I did mean for you to lick them first."

Again Ahmed shook his head.

Herger scrambled out of bed, weaving a little on his feet but going straight for Ahmed's saddlebags. Ahmed sat up and drew the covers over himself.

Herger went through his things roughly, tossing objects aside until he held up the vial of oil Ahmed had used for shaving. He strode back to the bed with object in hand and threw the covers off, straddling Ahmed's legs in a quick motion.

"Watch me," Herger said brusquely.

He poured the last remaining oil onto his fingers and tossed the vial to the floor, then smeared the oil around his first two fingers and reached behind himself. Ahmed heard only a soft exhalation, and saw no wince of pain on Herger's face. He was concentrating hard, staring off into space, and then...right there, that was a flicker of pleasure. Herger focused on him, a grin spreading across his face.

"See? That easy."

Ahmed looked down. Herger was still hard, so perhaps what he was doing with his fingers was not so uncomfortable. Ahmed touched his thighs, sliding his hands around and up to cup his ass. Herger moaned and held his cock with his other hand, stroking the shaft and rubbing his thumb over the head.

Ahmed closed his eyes to visualize what he was feeling, working his fingers across Herger's buttocks until he felt a wrist. He kept going, tracing the cords on the back of Herger's hand, then knuckles. Two of his fingers were embedded inside himself. Ahmed could feel his body stretched for them.

Herger pulled his fingers out for Ahmed to feel the movement, then drove them in again. Herger's cock brushed Ahmed's stomach, leaving a smear of wetness.

"It feels good," Herger went on, whispering. Ahmed opened his eyes and saw his arm and shoulder muscles flexing as his hand worked, monster rippling. "You will see."

"Then you will climax from this?"

Herger grinned and quickened the movements of his other hand, stroking his cock at a faster rate. Ahmed began to feel feverish with arousal, his body aching as he watched. He slid down the bed a little, putting Herger above his chest and getting a different angle of view.

He watched as Herger worked himself with both hands, front and back, face flushing red as his arousal built. Finally he jerked and swayed, groaning between his teeth, white trickles of release seeping out between his fingers. Ahmed reached up to steady him, touching his arms and chest.

Herger opened his eyes, breathing heavily. He wiped his hand on the cloth casing of the mattress and swung his leg over Ahmed's body, lying down next to him.

Ahmed noticed a few drops of semen on his stomach. He wiped them off absently, then started when Herger took his hand and brought the fingers to his mouth.

"Why do you do that?" he asked as Herger sucked the taste of his own fluids off Ahmed's fingertips.

"It tastes good. Want to try it?"

"I think not." Ahmed had not minded when Herger had swallowed that stuff, but the thought of doing it himself was disgusting.

Herger clicked his tongue at him and leaned over, throwing an arm across his stomach. He pressed a kiss on Ahmed's hipbone and licked the skin. At the same time he took Ahmed's cock in hand, stroking gently and steadily.

He knew just where to concentrate his touch, on the vein running along the shaft and the sensitive cleft behind the head. At the same time he moved his mouth over Ahmed's belly and chest, sucking on his skin and nipples, his free hand massaging all the sensitive points Ahmed didn't know he had.

Soon Ahmed whined and shook and thrust up against Herger's palm with jerky movements. Herger licked lightly around his navel. Ahmed came hard.

Herger again licked him clean. Despite his earlier apprehensions about tasting semen, Ahmed wanted the feel of those soft lips on his mouth, so when Herger lifted his head and moved back up his body he lifted up without hesitation. The taste of Herger's tongue was not unappealing, he discovered with surprise.

When they broke their kiss, Herger rolled onto his back and yawned. Ahmed folded himself on his side, watching Herger in the lamplight.

Herger should not stay, even though it was not unusual for two men to share a room. The fact that Herger had his own room was what made it dangerous. If someone found out about their liaison, they could be persecuted. He needed to say something before they both fell asleep.

The last thing he remembered was the hazy, confused thought that Herger couldn't be awake if his eyes were closed.  


 

Ahmed woke with bright sunlight trickling in through the shutters. He rolled out of bed and used the chamber pot, cursing himself for sleeping so late. When he went to find his clothes, he saw Herger's pants and shirt strewn across the floor and remembered what he'd done the night before.

Herger was still in the narrow bed, curled tightly under the covers with his head tucked in.

He needn't worry about Herger having stayed the night in his room, Ahmed reasoned with himself, remembering his earlier fear. It was doubtful anyone realized they were in the same room together, and most likely no one had checked Herger's room. He finished dressing and washed his face, thinking that he would dearly like a long shave at the bathhouse when he had time.

By the time he was finished, Herger still hadn't budged. Ahmed leaned over the bed and shook his shoulder, murmuring his name.

Herger awoke slowly, pushing away Ahmed's hand and grumbling into the pillow. When he finally sat up and opened his eyes after more urging, Ahmed could tell that he was hurting from the amount of drink he'd had the night before.

Herger was silent as he got out of bed, except for when he snapped irritably at Ahmed's prodding. He dressed and threw some water on his face, then followed Ahmed out of the room.

They ate a light breakfast to give Herger a chance to wake up, but Herger hardly ate because of the nausea plaguing him. After Ahmed finished eating, he pulled out a scrap of parchment he'd saved from his letter to Irene, and wrote a note to his father. He said where he was and what a turn of events he'd had with meeting Irene. He then asked for his father to send a bit of money for security, and signed the note, "Your son."

When Ahmed was finished, they continued on to Irene's home. With their possessions in hand, Ahmed told the innkeeper they would not be returning for a third night. He led the way out into the street, ignoring Herger when he continued to complain at the sun hurting his eyes.

"Wait here," Ahmed whispered to Herger when they were let into the foyer of Irene's home. Herger didn't look at him, but took off his cloak and sword.

Ahmed followed the servant back to Irene's sitting room, where she was sitting at an embroidery frame. The curtains were thrown open to give her light to work, and Ahmed saw that she was making some sort of historical tapestry.

Noting that Ahmed had all of his possessions with him, she said, "Are you both here?"

Realizing she meant Herger, Ahmed nodded. "My friend is at the front doors."

"What are you hiding him away for?" She turned to her servant, waiting silently by the door. "Bring him here."

Within a few moments Ahmed heard loud echoing footsteps outside the room, then watched Herger walk in. His sharp gaze immediately focused on Irene, to whom he nodded and greeted in Latin.

"Your friend did not tell me you are educated," she replied with a smile. "I am pleased to meet you, Northman. What are you called?"

"Herger," he answered.

"Herger what? Surely a man like you has more of a name than just that."

He hesitated, then offered, "Inn glaði. It means Joyous."

"Joyous," Irene murmured to herself. She turned to Ahmed and said in Arabic, "He is magnificent."

That surprised Ahmed, but he recovered. "You have wonderful judgment, madam, but he is only the runt of the litter."

Irene laughed and walked over to Herger. He watched her warily, but took her hand when she held it out. What she was expecting him to do, Ahmed didn't know, but she smiled when Herger bent and kissed her fingers. "Welcome to my home, Herger. I hope you will decide to stay."

Herger nodded once in thanks. His expression was neutral, unreadable.

Irene gestured toward the door. "My man will show you to your rooms."

Before he left her, Ahmed passed the note over and asked, "Will you send this on your next caravan to Baghdad?" She nodded and tucked the small packet into a sleeve. He thanked her and followed Herger and the servant out of the room.

The servant took them to a wing on the opposite side of the house. The floors and walls were marble, with mosaics laid into the stone. Statues and artful objects from a wide range of cultures were displayed in niches in the walls, the light of windows and skylights bouncing off the white stone and illuminating every corner.

Ahmed continued to be impressed by the finery of the house, but he had seen such riches in Baghdad. Herger, however, was unused to seeing the sort of opulence that was most exquisite in Constantinople, and he walked more slowly as he took everything in. Once they were both in the main room of their apartment, the servant quietly closed the doors.

There was the main room, with a few pieces of furniture and a large, ornate bed, wide enough for an entire family to sleep in. Double doors led to a private courtyard. There was a high wall bordering it, and beyond that the city. Another door led to the second room.

Ahmed set down his things and hung up his cloak. As he began to clear out his saddlebags, he noticed Herger wandering off to the adjoining room, and followed when he was finished organizing and putting away his few possessions.

The room Herger had found was a small library, with a case of papers and a few dozen books, a writing desk and stool, and several large windows. Ahmed caught his breath. Herger in the midst of the beauty and peace, a place of higher learning and refined culture, was like a lion in a ballroom. Stunning to look at, and so out of place.

Herger closed a book on the desk and looked at him.

Ahmed wasn't sure if he could read, but it was a testament to Herger's intelligence that he spoke more than one language and understood several. He wasn't about to ask now, anyway. Instead he smiled and proposed the one thing he'd been most looking forward to introducing to Herger.

"Shall we go to the bathhouse?"

Herger made a face of distaste. Ahmed crossed over and took the book Herger had been looking at, seeing that it was an Arabic work on mathematics. He paged through it to give himself something to do, and said, "Surely you would like to see what they are like. The men strip down to nearly nothing and are washed and rubbed with oils. There are also games and saunas with which they pass the time."

He could tell that Herger was won over by the way the book was snatched out of his hands. Herger blustered, "If someone has been putting their hands on you, then I will go to find out who I have to kill." He walked out.


	10. Chapter 10

The moment Ahmed and Herger entered the front room of the bathhouse, Herger began receiving stares. Ahmed told the attendant that Herger was not his slave, despite Herger's rough, dirty clothing and blond hair. Accepting Ahmed's word, the attendant allowed them entrance.

As they walked inside, Ahmed saw other rooms with people attending lectures and classes. From deeper in the building they could hear echoing voices and the sound of water. Ahmed was familiar with all of this, having been to the bathhouse before, but to Herger it was all new.

They went deeper into the building to an ante room where the men disrobed. Switching to Norse, Ahmed told Herger to put his clothing in the basket provided. He would ask for it to be cleaned and returned to Irene's home, while Herger would have some temporary robes to wear when leaving the bath. Herger also had to be provided with the proper undergarment to wear in the bath, since nudity was not acceptable and Herger wore nothing under his leather pants. Herger looked amused but stripped obediently.

Ahmed had seen him so unclothed before, but never in public. As they left the dressing rooms, he had to force himself to look away, for fear he would gaze too long.

The bathhouse was as magnificent structure. Marble pillars supported the domed ceiling, and windows paned in Venetian glass let sunlight in from all directions. There were colorful mosaics and murals decorating nearly every wall, column, and the floors, showing a wide variety of beasts and flowers, famous battles, and Christian stories.

The halls echoed with the noise of men socializing, eating, drinking, and making use of the pools. Servant boys scampered around like chickens, fetching oils and cloths and towels.

Herger looked completely out of his element.

A boy came up and took his wrist, tugging him gently. Ahmed told the boy in Arabic that he must be kind to Herger, but could take him to be fed and bathed. Herger shot him a look of irritation at not saying anything in Norse, and then he was pulled off to a small pool room with a fountain.

Ahmed took some tea and fixed himself a plate of food, then sat on a bench inside the room to watch. A few other men were being attended in the pool along with Herger, but everyone had their attention on the Northman.

The boy serving Herger filled a pitcher in the waterfall springing from the head of a grotesque on the wall, then splashed over to him and upended the pitcher above his head. Ahmed and several other men laughed aloud at the surprised and disgruntled expression on Herger's face at being soaked so abruptly.

The boy then examined a tray of oils in small clay jars. He selected one and soaked a cloth with the contents, then began scrubbing Herger's chest with the cloth.

Herger let himself be pulled in one direction and another, the boy's cloth rinsed and resoaked as Herger's pale skin was cleaned and massaged with perfumed oil. When he was done, the boy mixed a paste in a bowl and took a tortoiseshell comb out of a box on the tray.

"Your hair," Ahmed called in Norse, thinking Herger should probably be warned first. He knew that most people found Herger's blond hair fascinating, and the boy would probably put a great deal of attention to cleaning it.

Herger's expression read of apprehension at first. He let the boy unravel the braids in his hair, then work the paste into the entire mass. But when the boy began to scrub his scalp, Ahmed grinned to see Herger's eyes close in bliss.

Herger's hair was combed out and rinsed, and finally he was released. Ahmed patted the boy's arm as they came out of the pool, signaling that he was released from service. He turned back to Herger, who was already putting the braids back in.

"What are they for?"

"You remember Rethel."

Ahmed nodded. "The archer."

"And Hyglak, with one hand." Ahmed nodded again. "Rethel was my father's brother, and Hyglak his cousin. The little one you saw, Haltaf, was my uncle's son. It is a tradition of my forefathers to wear braids to show their age and accomplishments. A man takes part in a ceremony when he is of the proper age, and adds more hair to the braid every year he lives thereafter. I wear two, for my father, who died when I was a boy, and for my uncle, who raised me."

"I understand." Ahmed took the thin strings of leather from Herger's fingers, gesturing toward the braids Herger had made. With Herger holding the strands taut, Ahmed tied off the ends for him.

"And now you?" Herger gestured toward the bathing pool. Ahmed smiled.

"I had hoped I would see you shaved. You still look like a heathen with that beard."

Herger rubbed his chin. "Not a chance."

"Trimmed, then?" Ahmed grinned.

Herger agreed, on the condition that Ahmed would go through the same ordeal he'd just been subjected to. Ahmed acquiesced without hesitation.

While Herger ate, Ahmed spent his own time in the pool, using another servant boy's help to be cleaned from head to foot. Afterward he had his face shaved and his hair was trimmed while another barber took a razor and comb to Herger's beard. Herger nodded in approval when the hot cloth was removed from Ahmed's face and cream applied to his skin.

"And now for a massage," Ahmed said, pointing to a doorway. Herger looked confused, so Ahmed showed him what he meant.

A row of workers waited next to their high tables, some already occupied with men lying face down. Ahmed took one table, but Herger stayed on his feet to watch. Feeling Herger's gaze on him, Ahmed closed his eyes and waited for the first drops of oil to hit his back.

Within a few minutes he was groaning softly, and at that, Herger demanded that he get the same treatment. Without opening his eyes, Ahmed smiled and called out for someone else to give the Northman a massage.

Some time later, he was finally finished. He could feel his skin slick with oil, the muscles of his back, neck, and arms warmed and loosened by the talented hands of the attendant. He waited on a bench outside while Herger's massage was completed. When his friend walked unsteadily out of the room, Ahmed laughed and clapped his hands in approval.

"I want to go back to our room," Herger said quietly.

Ahmed agreed, though Herger's response made him worried that his companion had been angered or offended in some way. Ahmed dressed again in his own clothing, while only Herger's pants and boots were returned to him. The leathers had been cleaned and oiled until it shone, and a simple white tunic was loaned to him while his shirts were laundered. Ahmed paid the fees and they stepped out into the bright, busy streets of Constantinople.  


 

The moment they were back in Ahmed's rooms, Herger caught Ahmed's arm and turned him around. Instead of kissing him, as Ahmed expected, Herger leaned in and sniffed his hair. Then he lifted a hank of his own blond strands and sniffed them, too.

"What is it?"

"We smell the same now."

Ahmed didn't quite understand. Herger began pulling on Ahmed's clothes, undressing him where they stood as he talked.

"For months I have smelled your scent and wondered how you carried it so far. Now I know it was in your clothing, in everything you have. First I hated it." He pulled Ahmed's shirt over his head and gave him a playful grin. "Now when I smell it, I think of you."

At that, Herger leaned in and kissed him deeply. The warmth of pleasure already making his limbs heavy began to spread as he grew more aroused. He began to unfasten his own trousers, helping Herger with the process. Finally he stood nude in the center of the room and Herger pulled him into a close embrace, kissing him again.

Herger ran his hands over Ahmed's oiled skin, from shoulder to buttocks, stroking and kneading urgently as his mouth twisted and danced. Ahmed felt himself harden quickly as he returned the kisses, losing himself in Herger's taste. He pressed closer to Herger, trying to rub against the front of his leather trousers.

But Herger began walking him backwards, moving his mouth down Ahmed's throat and over his shoulders and chest. Grumbles and growls reached Ahmed's ears; it sounded as if Herger was feasting on him and enjoying every taste.

They reached the bed and Herger nudged him to sit down. Ahmed stretched out on the soft mattress, finer than any bed Ahmed had lain in since leaving Baghdad. The soft cotton sheets and fur throws felt sinful against his clean skin. He spread himself over the bed, closing his eyes with a smile while Herger undressed.

The touch of a mouth on his ankle surprised him.

He jerked and opened his eyes. Herger was watching him steadily, his mouth hovering over Ahmed's leg. Waiting for permission.

Ahmed nodded. His mouth dropped open as Herger continued, swiping his tongue up Ahmed's calf to his knee, then higher, on the outside of his thigh. A hand followed, stroking up the middle of the leg with a light touch that made his skin burn. Ahmed shivered when Herger reached the edge of his buttocks and pressed a kiss there.

Then Herger moved around the bed, and began on the other side. When he finished with another kiss, he got up onto the mattress and knelt between Ahmed's legs, repeating the caresses and kisses on the insides of his legs. Ahmed shook uncontrollably as Herger kissed the dip where thigh met pelvis, but Herger ignored his arousal. But he did slide his hands around and underneath Ahmed's thighs, stroking his legs while he raised his head.

"Will you roll over?"

Ahmed did not hesitate. He nodded and Herger released his legs.

When Ahmed was settled on his stomach, Herger resumed the ritual on the backs of his legs. Ahmed had never realized how wonderfully erotic a tongue on the back of his knees could feel. Herger finished with kisses at the very tops of his thighs, then moved up and continued across Ahmed's back.

This time his hands massaged instead of caressed, pressing firmly into the muscles, continuing the massage he'd had at the bathhouse. Combined with the tickle of beard and wet slide of tongue, Ahmed didn't think anything could feel better.

But then Herger moved lower. His hand stroked down Ahmed's back to his buttocks, and gently massaged the muscles there. Ahmed's face flushed to feel the globes being pressed together and pulled apart in circular motions, but it felt good at the same time. He kept his face buried in a pillow and did not stop Herger.

The now-familiar mouth touched him at the low curve of his back. The tongue dragged through the sparse curls there, and down to the very tip of his spine. It did not hesitate, and continued into the cleft of his ass.

Ahmed let out a groan he hadn't been aware he'd been holding back.

Strong hands pushed his thighs and buttocks apart, holding him open. The tongue licked and prodded all the way down to his entrance, where it circled the puckered muscles in a slow dance.

Ahmed cried out, feeling his staff pulse uncontrollably. He pushed a hand between himself and the mattress, gripping the base of his hardness and turning his mind away from fulfillment. Herger wasn't done.

Herger kept licking in slow circles, tongue flicking over each tiny ridge and pressing into each minute pucker. Ahmed realized faintly that his low cries were growing louder and more frequent. And Herger's mouth was getting wetter, his tongue soaking Ahmed's entrance. Even his lips pressed against Ahmed's most intimate flesh, kissing and sucking.

Finally, Herger stiffened his tongue and stabbed it into Ahmed's body. Ahmed felt himself pierced by the most gentle thrust, his body opening easily and accepting the invasion. Ahmed began to stroke himself, unable to hold back any longer.

Herger pulled away. He caught Ahmed's elbow and stretched out across his back, bringing his mouth close to his ear.

"Not yet. I would rather swallow you instead."

A sob broke from Ahmed's throat. He rocked back against Herger, feeling his friend's own staff slide wetly between his ass. Herger groaned and moved against him in unison for a moment, then went back to his task.

Ahmed only lasted a few more minutes before crying out, "Please! Please. I cannot take any more." His muscles were quivering with the need to thrust into something, anything, a willing body or the bed beneath him. Holding completely still for Herger's tongue was not something he could do any longer.

Herger sat up and put a hand on Ahmed's hip, murmuring for him to roll over. Ahmed settled and stared down at himself. He was huge, as swollen and hard as he had ever been in his entire life.

Herger lay on his stomach with his arms draped over Ahmed's thighs. He pulled Ahmed's staff away from his stomach and took the head into his mouth, drawing it deeply as his tongue moved down the shaft. Ahmed groaned and dug his fingers into a fur beneath him, balling it in his fists. It was obscene, how Herger took more without flinching, until Ahmed felt his tip touch the back of Herger's mouth. The muscles of his hips and back quivered with the tension of holding back.

Herger sucked softly and moved his other hand. Ahmed felt the touch of a fingertip on his entrance and rocked his hips encouragingly, moaning through lax lips. The finger began a slow circle, rubbing gently. Ahmed spread his legs and tilted his hips and thought of a lotus opening its petals. He wanted more.

Without saying anything, Herger got up and retrieved a flask of oil from the stand where shaving supplies were kept, pouring a little onto his fingers as he came back to the bed. He took his place and put his fingers back on Ahmed's hole, the oil making everything slippery and slick. He watched Ahmed for a moment, examining his expression. Ahmed realized his mouth was hanging open as he gasped and groaned, but he couldn't summon the energy to compose himself. Instead he watched as Herger took his shaft back into his mouth.

His hips gave a tiny thrust of their own accord. Herger made an encouraging sound, so Ahmed did it again. At the same time, he felt a fingertip slide inside him.

Being penetrated felt strange, but good. There was no burning or tearing feeling, only a sense of being filled. Ahmed continued moving his hips, and with each pulse Herger slid his finger a little deeper. Soon he was thrusting completely in and out of Herger's mouth without Herger having to move his head, and he could feel the palm of Herger's hand pressed against his balls. His finger was completely embedded.

Herger wiggled and turned his finger, rubbing against the inside of Ahmed's body. Ahmed gave a quiet cry, his hips jerking unsteadily on the next thrust. And then Herger did something, touched something inside him, that destroyed whatever remained of his fragile control in a flash of exquisite pleasure.

Ahmed cried out again and tried to pull away, feeling his climax rush through his body, not wanting to spend in Herger's mouth. But Herger pressed down on his hips and took him deep, sucking and swallowing, coaxing Ahmed's seed forth. Ahmed let himself go, his staff pulsing repeatedly in Herger's mouth, Herger swallowing every drop.

He lay limp on the bed when it was finished. Herger slid his finger out and lifted his head, breathing heavily himself.

"I..." Ahmed's mouth was as parched as if he'd been in the deserts surrounding Baghdad. He licked his lips and swallowed, trying to moisten his tongue.

Herger chuckled and crawled over him, propping himself up. Ahmed felt something brush his belly and looked down between them. Herger's cock was touching him lightly.

More confident now, Ahmed wrapped his hand around the shaft. His thumb slid over the head and smeared the moisture leaking from there, a touch that made Herger gasp. Ahmed began to move his hand, stroking, his fingers caressing the tip on each upstroke.

Herger buried his face in Ahmed's throat. He gently tasted Ahmed's skin, lips moving with openmouthed kisses. Soon Ahmed's palm was slick and moving easily over Herger's arousal, stroking and squeezing with more confidence.

Herger muffled his groans in Ahmed's neck. Ahmed moved his other hand to Herger's hip, encouraging him to thrust into his fist, the muscles rolling under his palm. Herger's movements grew faster, his panting breaths rushing across Ahmed's neck.

Finally Herger stiffened and moaned, and a rush of warmth spilled over Ahmed's fingers and stomach. Ahmed gentled his touch and eased him through it, coaxing more pulses until Herger gasped for him to stop.

They separated, Herger flopping onto his back, both of them panting like they'd just fought a battle. Ahmed looked down and slid his fingers through the pool of semen on his stomach, delighted for the first time at being soiled in such a manner.

Herger saw him and laughed. Ahmed retrieved his shirt and used it to wipe himself off before climbing back into the bed. He piled up some pillows to lounge on his side, getting comfortable as the warm feelings of pleasure continued to roil throughout his body.

"Did you enjoy that?" Herger stretched his arms over his head, looking as pleased with himself as the caliph in his harem.

Ahmed nodded, propping his head up with one arm. "Very much. I would not have ever thought to do...that...with my tongue."

"I know," Herger laughed. "And I have many more tricks for you to enjoy."

A grin was fixed permanently on Ahmed's face. He rolled onto his back and laughed, "I think you will kill me."

They lay in bed and talked drowsily for a while until hunger caught up with them. Ahmed dressed and ordered food brought to his rooms, then explored the library while it was being prepared. He chose a book of the history of Constantinople, and brought it back to the bedroom when the food was delivered. He was quickly distracted with reading and forgot about eating.

Eventually Herger snatched the book from his hands. "I hate figs. You finish them."

Ahmed rolled his eyes. "You just want attention." All the same, he started in on the food Herger had left for him. Herger grinned, obviously knowing that he had been found out.

It was late by the time they finished eating, so Ahmed put out the lamps and crawled under the covers. Being in bed next to Herger was an odd feeling. They didn't have to sneak around or worry about being discovered. This was his bed, his apartment, and if he'd understood Irene, she did not care if a man shared it with him.

The feeling was surprisingly comfortable.


	11. Chapter 11

Over the following six weeks, as winter peaked and waned, Ahmed settled into life in Constantinople with little trouble. He ate his meals in his apartment, worked on assignments from Irene, and took walks around the city when he needed breaks. He also enjoyed the courtyards tucked among the rooms and halls of the house, where small areas of paving stones and plants surrounded fountains and stone benches so a person could sit and take the air.

There were many people in the house, yet Ahmed hardly noticed them. Irene had over a dozen slaves, some for general duties, others for cooking and cleaning. There were also her three children. Ahmed had encountered the children a few times after being formally introduced. The boys, Palladius and Elias, were barely a year apart and still under ten, and the girl, Thecla, was a precocious twelve. They hardly made a sound most of the time, with the exception of a few fights and temper tantrums. For all the people living in the house, it was peaceful and quiet.

Ahmed discovered more about Irene as he spent more time in her world. Along with her husband's merchant and trade business, her own family had built an empire in silk. Chinese silk came by the 4,000 mile long road from that empire, but the Sophianos family had become the main providers for the tailors of Constantinople.

Irene herself was therefore one of the most fashionable women in Constantinople. She frequently took visits from business people selling the latest perfumes, furs, and jewelry. Her tailor made weekly visits and sent a constant supply of garments. Just as frequently, she sent out old clothes and shoes as charity for the poor. Her philanthropy impressed Ahmed. Each day he spent in her employ made him happier to be in Constantinople.

Herger did not share the sentiment.

Although Herger did not outwardly complain, he did not enjoy living in the city. He hated being confined, with the city's walls closing in on the house, and the house's walls closing in on him. The crowds and endless chaos of public life disturbed him. He liked being in control in his environment, being adept at dealing with a situation. The ignorance and pitiful quality of the city dwellers' lives made him exasperated to be in their midst. He spent much of his days out and about, riding through the streets to give his horse exercise and to simply get away, to keep on the move.

But within a week of their arrival, Herger found the other Northmen in the city, those fighters who made up the Varangian guard. He would visit them on duty and off, taking up their time to find out where they had come from, who their forefathers were, how much they liked or hated living and working in the "New Rome." Their presence was a source of solace for him.

Soon he began staying out after dusk, skipping meals with Ahmed in favor of drinking with his new kinsmen.

One night Ahmed ate his delicious meal of lamb stew with bread, vegetables, fruits, and cakes, then read in the library for a few hours. When his eyelids grew heavy, he put the book aside and got ready for bed.

The weather had warmed somewhat since they had arrived in Constantinople, and would get warmer as the months passed. It was quite comfortable, enough that he had not needed his cloak since arriving. It was for this reason that he did not bother to buy a nightshirt, and slept in his libas under the piles of blankets and furs.

He had just put out the light and settled down to sleep, his heart heavy when he mentally checked off another day when he had not seen Herger at all. Then the door opened and closed loudly. He could hear Herger's boots shuffling unsteadily across the floor, his breathing heavy and slow. He sounded tired. The mattress dipped as he sat down.

"Are you awake?"

Ahmed rolled over. The moon was bright enough tonight to seep in through the shutters and show an outline of Herger's form. "I just put out the light."

Herger grunted and leaned over, unlacing his boots. Ahmed could smell the alcohol now; on Herger's breath, his clothes, seeping from his skin. Herger continued undressing. In a few minutes he got under the covers and stretched out. Ahmed rolled again, putting his back to Herger.

He felt a touch; a beard-roughened mouth, cool hand on his waist, legs pressing against his. "Mmm, you are warm," Herger said against his shoulder, pressing closer.

Despite his unhappiness, Ahmed could not ignore his physical attraction to Herger. All of his frustration and disappointment faded as Herger worked his undergarment down his legs. They didn't say anything as Ahmed turned and kissed Herger deeply. They moved with each other, using hands and friction to bring each other to fulfillment.

But as Ahmed cleaned himself off and settled in the bed, his thoughts returned. He knew their passion meant nothing now; it was empty lust for Herger, and an escape for himself. Herger's arm, wrapped loosely around his waist, brought no comfort.

Herger grew heavy and still against him, his breathing slowing. Soon Ahmed knew he was asleep, and pulled gently out of his grasp.  


 

This continued as the days went on. After a couple of weeks Herger spent all of the daylight hours out of the house, and then most of the nighttime hours, too. Although he did not ask Ahmed or Irene for money, he managed to drink himself into a stupor most nights of the week. If he was not too drunk, he coaxed Ahmed into sex. It was the most contact they had, and they hardly talked throughout it.

Ahmed became resigned with Herger's behavior, but every day he wondered if it would be the last Herger would spend in Constantinople. Despite their reconciliation there was nothing keeping him in the city, and he was so unsatisfied with life here.

He began to watch Herger's saddlebags with unusual attention, certain that their disappearance would signal the end of their relationship. Soon every time he entered his apartment he looked at their place on the wall peg, reassuring himself that Herger was still with him. It became as instinctive a ritual as rubbing his eyes free of sleep in the morning. Within days he hardly noticed he was doing it.

But one day, six weeks after they had been taken in by Irene, Ahmed returned to his apartment and found the saddlebags gone.

He had been running an errand, buying paper to restock his supply. Irene had given him a task of making copies of a short note in Greek, and his mind was on the translating the text so that he would not make a mistake, when he looked toward the peg and found it empty.

He stopped, all thoughts of Greek and paper leaving his mind. He looked around the main room, scanning for sight of the familiar bags.

When he didn't see them immediately, he checked under the bed, then behind some drapery. They were not in either location, nor out in the courtyard or in the library.

He went back to the room and searched everywhere, throwing the room into shambles. After a frenzied half hour he stopped himself, sweating and breathing heavily, and went to sit in the library. The saddlebags were definitely not in his rooms, and Herger would not have left them elsewhere in the house. He had to accept that something had changed.

He composed himself and went about transcribing the notes Irene wanted, although in his distracted, anxious state, he could not concentrate on translating the Greek. When he was finished he gave them to a few of the servants for delivery around the city, then went out himself. He couldn't stay inside with nothing to occupy his thoughts.

He walked through Irene's neighborhood, letting the crowds brush by him as he went down the sidewalk under the colonnade. Eventually he came to the old acropolis at the end of the avenue, where the peninsula ended and the Golden Horn jutted into the land like a blue jeweled finger. He sat on a stone wall and watched the water.

This tryst with Herger could not have lasted forever. Perhaps it was best if it ended this way, the cut quickly and cleanly executed.

Ahmed was occupied with his work, while Herger had nothing. Who could blame him for leaving?

There was little doubt that Ahmed could travel the rest of the way to Baghdad without assistance, given Irene's connections and caravans.

Someday he would have to take a wife and start a family.

But he could not bring himself to accept his own rationalizations. His stomach clenched uncomfortably and his throat ached so much he couldn't breathe. He didn't want to do anything without Herger, even as bad as their relationship had been of late.

A large group had descended on the acropolis as Ahmed had been watching the water. He realized that it was students from the university, with their professor holding a class in the style of the Socratic method. Some in the audience were staring at Ahmed, distracted by the man standing alone on the terrace.

Embarrassed by the attention, he went back into the heart of the city.

When he returned to his rooms, the first thing he noticed was how disheveled everything looked after his frantic search earlier. The second thing he noticed was a sound coming from the courtyard.

When he went to look, he found Herger sitting on the bench, rubbing oil into his saddle. Some of his other effects were strewn around him, including his leather pants and boots. He was dressed in trousers that Ahmed recognized as a pair he had received from his tailor. He was obviously treating all of his leathers, but Ahmed wondered if it was out of respect for his belongings or to prepare for travel.

"I thought you had gone," Ahmed said before thinking.

Herger looked up briefly, but did not stop working. "I was gone."

"Gone from the city, I mean."

Herger snorted, further embarrassing Ahmed for how he was expressing himself.

"Why would you think that?"

Herger's dismissive attitude brought all of Ahmed's anguish to the surface, and it spilled over like a pot of boiling water. His response had a snap to it like a riding whip. "Because you have been moping around here like a bored housemaid!"

Herger stood, throwing aside his oilcloth and stalking across the courtyard to where Ahmed stood in the doorway. In a quick move he pushed Ahmed against the door frame, pushing his forearm into Ahmed's throat hard enough to cut off his air. He shouted in Ahmed's face, the Northman temper quickly firing. "I should kill you for that insult! Is that what you want? Why do you provoke me?"

Ahmed punched a fist into Herger's chest, knocking the air from his lungs and pushing him away. Although they both gasped for breath, Herger gained the upper hand and punched Ahmed in the jaw.

Ahmed stumbled back and fell, his back hitting a potted plant just beside the doorway in the main room. While he sucked in air and his eyes watered with tears of pain, he watched Herger stride by and out of the room, slamming the door behind himself.

Ahmed got to his feet slowly, wincing as his back throbbed. He caught his breath and convinced himself he was all right. He would be all right. Herger's fist did not mean the end of the world. They had been through fights before, and had come out unscathed.

He only needed some task to do, something to take his mind off his anger and hurt. The entire apartment was still in disarray, so he set about straightening the furnishings and his meager possessions.

The door opened shortly, and Irene entered the room. Ahmed put down the blanket he was folding and bowed to her.

"I just saw Herger leaving in a rush. He seemed very angry," Irene said, concern plain in her voice and expression. She crossed to Ahmed and touched his forearm, examining his face.

Ahmed frowned. "We had a quarrel. It is nothing for you to worry about, madam."

"I worry for your happiness," she responded softly. "Distractions will disrupt your work. Is there anything I can do?"

If Ahmed did not know how to deal with the man he had spent months alongside, he doubted Irene would have better luck. He shook his head regretfully and picked up the blanket, pulling at a bit of loose embroidery.

Irene sighed and patted his arm. "Please do not hesitate to ask for my help if you need it, Ahmed, no matter what the matter is. I want to be here for you just as you are for me. Loyalty means a great deal in this house."

Ahmed managed a smile, casting a glance toward her face. "Thank you, madam. I will not forget your kindness."

Patting his arm a final time, Irene leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "I will leave you to whatever your fancy is, then. Do not come to see me before tomorrow morning."

Ahmed nodded as she turned to leave, although her instruction did not ease his mind. He would have preferred some work to distract him.

He continued to straighten the rooms, not stopping again until they were as perfectly in order as they had been the day he had moved in. When he had no other physical activity to distract him and his back was stiff with pain, he decided to go to the bathhouse for a massage, a meal, and perhaps some better company.  


 

Ahmed nodded to some familiar faces as he walked through the social rooms of the bathhouse. He had eaten a light meal and watched a few games of chess, and was now ready for a massage.

But as he walked by the final game room, he happened to glance inside and saw a familiar blond head. Herger was bent over a table, watching a teammate flip small tile chips across the table toward a goal. A point was scored as Ahmed watched, and Herger straightened and yelled in celebration with his teammate.

Ahmed quickly started walking again, his heart pounding. He didn't want contact with Herger again so soon; at best it would seem like he was following Herger like a kicked dog, at worst seeking another confrontation.

He continued to the massage room, taking the farthest table and lying with his head turned away from the door. Perhaps Herger would not enter, and if he did, would not see Ahmed there.

The attendant scolded him irritably as he began to prepare Ahmed's skin with oil. There was a large swelling bruise where he had hit the pot, and scrapes that had been made through his shirt. As soon as the man began pressing his hands against Ahmed's muscles, he cursed again at the tension he found.

Ahmed ignored him, hoping to clear his mind as the massage went on. All he could think of was how happy Herger had looked, playing games with his new friends. He preferred not to think at all.  


 

When his massage was finally finished, his back felt nearly normal. Ahmed tipped the man well and went back to Irene's house. It was late afternoon and Herger had disappeared, probably to a tavern with the rest of his kinsmen.

Ahmed felt drained and sleepy after the massage, so he went immediately to bed when he arrived back in his apartment. He awoke later to feel a warm hand on his shoulder.

It was dark in the room, long past sunset. Ahmed heard faint sounds of revelry from over the gate surrounding the courtyard. It was not so late that men were still stumbling drunk from the taverns. Herger had returned early.

Ahmed stayed on his side with his back to Herger, breathing lightly as he looked into the blackness. A pelt tickled his nose and he struggled not to brush it away. Perhaps if he didn't move...

The hand slid into his hair, fingers rubbing his scalp. Herger shifted on the bed behind him.

"I know you are awake."

Ahmed exhaled and closed his eyes. "So?"

"Roll over. I want to talk to you."

Instead Ahmed sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Herger made a dissatisfied grunt and got up, walking around until he stood in front of Ahmed.

"My friend told me he saw you at the bathhouse today. He wondered why you did not speak to me."

Ahmed let out a faint groan and dropped his head. He was so tired of these worries.

"You were there, then."

Ahmed took a moment, wondering what Herger would do if he did not answer. His honor got the best of him.

"I was."

"And you ignored me."

"You were with your people. Having fun, laughing, playing games. Was I to interrupt that?"

"You say ‘my people' as if you are not one of them, and that is stupid foolishness. I expected us to put our disagreement behind us, in the past where it belongs. Here, now, I am with you. I did not come all this way for you to ignore me."

Ahmed raised his head, temper firing. He could not make out Herger in the darkness, and it unnerved him, but he spoke in his direction. "I did not come all this way to be cursed at, struck, humiliated, or treated like a child."

Herger raised his voice, exasperation clear enough that Ahmed could easily picture his expression. "Then what are you here for? What _do_ you _want_? For Óðinn's sake, Eben!"

"I want your respect! Your love, your friendship. I want not to be abandoned, to work in solitary every day while you desert me to get drunk. I want us to have more communication than the sounds you make with my cock in your mouth." Ahmed stood, face aflame, and went to the courtyard doors. He opened them abruptly and stood there listening to the street sounds, letting the cool air blow over him, even if it did stink of cook fires and the ports.

Herger's bare feet made patting sounds on the floor behind him. After a moment he appeared at Ahmed's side, looking out into the courtyard with him, as they had stood in readiness for battle so many months earlier.

"I cannot help being restless. But I would never forget you came here with me."

Ahmed sagged, leaning heavily against the door frame. He did not want to be forgotten. That was the crux.

Herger looked over at him and took his wrist, as if readying to catch Ahmed if he fell. "I will come to you for the evening meal, or bring you out with me. Will that satisfy?"

Ahmed nodded, the stone doorway catching on his hair and scraping his scalp.

Herger slid his hand up Ahmed's arm to his elbow, rubbing his thumb against the tender inside flesh. "Let me take you to bed."

Ahmed straightened, turning to face Herger and pulling his arm out of his grasp. "Do you not understand what I have said? Sex does not make everything well again."

"I am not contesting that. I still want you."

Ahmed turned away from the door, looking toward the bed. Arousal was easy, at least. If all he could have of Herger's company was a daily meal and a bed mate, perhaps he should make the best of it. He did not want to upset the tenuous progress they had made tonight by refusing Herger, when it was so easy to comply.

He walked back to the bed and lay down.

Herger got under the covers behind him and touched his shoulders, running his fingertips down Ahmed's back. He brushed the scratches and Ahmed flinched. Herger stopped.

"What is this?"

"...the pot. When I fell."

Herger made a thoughtful sound and moved behind him. Ahmed felt another touch and flinched again, then forced himself to relax when he realized it was Herger's mouth.

Herger gently kissed the scratches, then made his way up Ahmed's back and covered the bruise with his palm. He pressed his hips closer as he nuzzled Ahmed's neck. Ahmed could feel growing heat from Herger's groin, and shifted back before he could think about it.

"That's it," Herger whispered encouragingly. He hummed and rocked his hips against Ahmed. Through his _libas_ , Ahmed could feel Herger's cock stiffening.

He still didn't feel like everything was perfect between them, but Ahmed was tired of the war between his mind and his heart. He saw now that it was he who was jealous of Herger's time with his friends, he who had walked into the courtyard with fear and anxiety ruling his tongue. Herger's life was so simple, and it was so easy for him to be happy. Ahmed only wanted the same.

Something had changed in the time since they had arrived. Within the first week in Constantinople, Herger had shown him astonishing pleasure that had warmed his very soul. In recent days that passion had cooled to mere physical release. Now he realized that he wanted that passion back.

Ahmed rolled over suddenly, wrapping an arm around Herger's waist and digging his fingers into his back. He pressed a fumbling kiss to Herger's mouth, feeling the hard press of teeth against his lips before they found a comfortable lock.

Herger chuckled and lifted a hand to Ahmed's neck, pressing him back gently. "What is this? You are suddenly eager?"

Ahmed pulled Herger's hand away, kissing him again. "I want what we had before," he said against his mouth.

Herger kissed him back firmly. "And I want more than that."

Ahmed was not so certain, but Herger confidently rolled them until he could straddle Ahmed's body. He took one of Ahmed's hands and raised it to his mouth, sucking a finger inside.

This, at least, they had done before. Ahmed moaned and moved his hand in unison with the rhythmic sucking, imagining his cock thrusting in and out of that tight, wet space. Gradually Herger sucked in two more fingers, sucking and licking more urgently as he rocked on Ahmed's hips. Ahmed felt his fantasy nearly take over reality, his cock stiffening pleasantly as his fingers moved within the tight circle of Herger's lips.

But then Herger pulled Ahmed's hand away, guiding it down his chest. He rubbed one of Ahmed's saliva-wet fingers around his nipple, groaning quietly to himself.

Ahmed was not stupid, and had somewhat of an idea why Herger had wet his fingers. He pulled his hand away and reached behind Herger's balls, finding the small puckered entrance.

Still, he didn't penetrate. He compromised with his hesitation and rubbed the ring of muscle, remembering how good it had felt when Herger had done that for him after their first trip to the bathhouse.

"Lighter," Herger whispered. "Not so firm. Tease it, like this." He brushed his fingers across Ahmed's nipple to demonstrate.

Ahmed felt a tingle of pleasure and groaned softly, immediately gentling his touch. His fingers had dried but Herger was sweating with arousal, allowing Ahmed to smoothly move his fingers. He made the smallest circles possible, feeling empowered as the tiny actions made Herger groan and tremble like a tree in wind.

Herger quickly became too aroused for Ahmed to keep up with him. He began stroking himself, rocking his hips back against Ahmed's fingers and forward into his fist, and quickly brought himself to climax. As he cried out and his arm flew into a blur, he pushed himself back so that Ahmed's fingertips entered him. Ahmed gasped but didn't pull away, allowing Herger to ride through his climax and recover in his own time.

Herger dropped bonelessly onto him, sliding off a little and resting his forehead on Ahmed's shoulder. Ahmed could feel his panting breaths rushing over his skin, tickling the sparse hair on his chest and cooling the splattered semen.

Herger ran his fingers through the mess and brought them to Ahmed's lips, pressing insistently as he began licking Ahmed's throat and ear. Ahmed opened his mouth and allowed the fingertips inside, tasting them hesitantly.

The flavor was not bad, no worse than it had been when Herger would kiss him after licking him clean. But this was the first he had tasted of the actual stuff, and he found that he was not completely repulsed. He carefully curled his tongue around Herger's fingers, sucking them clean.

"No teeth," Herger whispered. "I would not want you to bite me." He laughed. Ahmed relaxed his jaw guiltily, then realized that Herger meant he wouldn't want his cock scraped by Ahmed's teeth. He flushed deeply and stopped sucking, sitting up in the bed. The thought of him sucking Herger made him nervous and uncomfortable.

Herger made a sound of protest as he was dislodged, but Ahmed stood and went to the wash basin to clean off his chest and stomach. He lit a lamp with a coal from the fire, then washed his hands. When he turned Herger was waiting for him, kneeling on the bed with his legs spread for balance, cock softer but still flushed dark and heavy. Ahmed was distracted with the way the blond hair on his chest caught the light from the lamp.

Herger didn't notice Ahmed's distraction, or did not care. He pulled Ahmed closer by the hips and pushed down his libas to uncover his erection.

The tip of it disappeared into Herger's mouth, his lips parting easily for it, even eagerly. Ahmed took hold of Herger's shoulder and pushed him away, bringing his face up with the touch of a hand.

"Do you not find that emasculating?"

Herger was obviously thrown off balance by the question. He blinked, then shook his head in response.

"Must you ask this now?"

"You know that men like you are punished for crimes against God, both by the Christians and the Arabs. I would not want to see you fall to that fate."

Herger's mouth twitched unpleasantly. "Men like me."

Ahmed felt guilty, and held up his hands apologetically, palms out. "I phrased that poorly. I meant--"

"Lie down," Herger interrupted.

Ahmed hesitantly obeyed, stripping off his undergarment and watching Herger for further signs of anger as he stretched out. When Herger pushed his legs apart and knelt between them, he started to protest, thinking that perhaps Herger had not noticed that he had gone a little soft in his embarrassment. But Herger leaned over and took his wrists in hand, pinning them to the bed. His hair hung down his face and his eyes were fierce, as fiery as he had ever seen them.

"Men like _me_ enjoy being sucked, or fucked, or stroked to completion. They enjoy sleeping in the same bed and feeling a man next to them. They enjoy kissing bearded lips. Would that not make you a man like me?"

Ahmed opened his mouth, but thought better of speaking when Herger glared.

"I enjoy men because I do not have to treat them like women. I can be rough, hold them tightly, fuck them hard, kiss them until they cry out, climax in their mouths, and not hear a single complaint. Because they know how good it is."

Ahmed's head was filled with images. He felt dizzy.

"So I bend my head for you, to teach you these things. For us to be equal. Because fucking women is boring, and I have desired you since the first time I saw you. You will be mine."

"Our first meeting?" Ahmed whispered. He thought back to the dim tent, smoke in the air, smells assaulting his senses. He remembered how Herger had stared.

Herger looked satisfied. He leaned back, releasing Ahmed's wrists. "I wanted to do then what I am going to do now."

He bent his head, blond hair brushing Ahmed's stomach. Ahmed's muscles tightened, his cock jerking eagerly as Herger wrapped his fingers around it. He was completely hard again, Ahmed realized.

Herger took him back into his mouth, lips dragging down the shaft as he dipped his head. He took as much as he could and paused, moaning softly, then pulled up and licked everywhere he could reach along the shaft.

Ahmed bit a fist and closed his eyes, but he could not do without the sight. He immediately opened them again in time to watch Herger repeat the delicate torture.

Soon he was smothering loud cries with his fist, teeth gouging deeply into the back of his hand. Herger sucked on the tip of his shaft like he was sucking honey out of a straw, humming in satisfaction as he pulled the nectar from Ahmed's body.

When Ahmed felt a finger penetrate him in a smooth, easy motion, he reached down and frantically squeezed Herger's shoulder. With only that and a loud cry as warning, he thrust deep into Herger's mouth and let himself spill.

After a minute of gently licking him clean, Herger let him go and crawled back up the bed to flop onto his back. When he had caught his breath, Ahmed opened his eyes and looked over at him, finding that he had trouble focusing. Herger laughed when he saw his expression.

"I am sorry," Ahmed whispered hoarsely.

"No," Herger chuckled, "you had better not be." He got up and put out the light.


	12. Chapter 12

Ahmed finished the sentence on the tenth copy of a letter and straightened stiffly. His back was developing that fourth-hour ache, but he could go a while longer before having to walk it off. He only needed to finish two more copies and then he could ask Irene for another task.

The library was quiet today, a week after his fight with Herger. Herger was gone and Irene's children were with their tutor, so no noise from them filtered through the sprawling house. Ensconced in his apartment in the far wing, Ahmed felt largely isolated, and he valued the privacy.

He finished the letter just as his door opened. Looking up, he saw Irene enter the room, and stood immediately.

"Ahmed, how is your work coming?"

He smiled and touched the papers on his desk. "Fine, madam. I will be finished shortly."

Elias poked his head around the doorway, eyeing Ahmed owlishly as his mother continued. "You may stop for now. Have you heard of the race today at the hippodrome?"

Ahmed shook his head.

"All of the city will be there, as will I and my family. Please, find Herger and join us."

"I would be honored, madam." He smiled broadly, happy to be taking a break and seeing yet another new sight in the city. Irene nodded and shooed her son back out of the room, closing the door behind her.

He found Herger a few blocks away, at the nearest public house. He was learning some strange game involving stones and a board of miniature bowls in two rows. Ahmed waited until a match ended before tapping Herger on the shoulder. Herger stood and followed Ahmed outside.

"I was bored with that anyway. A child could figure out the strategy in two plays. What is it?"

"Irene would like us to accompany her to the hippodrome." At Herger's blank look, Ahmed added, "Where the races are held."

Herger immediately brightened. "Races?"

"With horses and chariots." Ahmed couldn't help but smile as Herger's enthusiasm.

"Let us go, then! Lead the way!"

With Herger pushing him on, Ahmed laughed and led the way back to the house.

They met Irene and her children in the foyer. Irene looked at Herger, wearing his usual clothing and weapons, and shook her head.

"You cannot take your sword. It is not allowed."

Herger scowled at that. Irene merely smiled and pointed to the hilt pointing out of his boot. "You may keep that knife, however."

Herger took off his scabbard and handed it to a slave. When it was clear of his hands, he pulled the long knife out of his boot and tucked it alongside his hip instead. That satisfied Irene.

The family would be taking litters to the arena, while Herger and Ahmed were to walk alongside. But when they went out to the street, the boys insisted on walking with the men. Irene reluctantly allowed it. The group walked through the higher class's quarter, past the emperor's palace to the hippodrome.

The sight when they got into the hippodrome was worth the cold sea wind and dusty streets of the walk. Ahmed and Herger were both amazed to see the massive sloped sides of the arena rising above the U-shaped field of play, and the tens of thousands of citizens filling the space. There were few sights in the world that could compare.

Four bronze horses reared from the roof of the royal box at one end, while in the middle of the arena were a variety of monuments lined lengthwise down the huge field. Other statues of horses and chariot drivers lined the arena. The track surrounded the _spina_ of monuments in the center, several times wider than the track of the arena in Rome.

Herger and Ahmed followed Irene and her family to the nearest end of the field and began climbing up the hill. She had a selection of seats behind and to the right of the emperor's box. Ahmed and Herger sat behind the family with the male slave who had been carrying their belongings.

Ahmed quickly noticed that there seemed to be many banners, flags, and even ladies' veils of blue or green, with few other colors in sight. After they were seated, Irene turned slightly to talk to them.

"The colors are for the teams," she explained, gesturing to the opposite slope. "I favor the Venetii," she added, and Ahmed realized she had purposefully chosen a sapphire blue veil to wear. "The emperor prefers the Prasinoi chariots."

"Have you wagered on these races, madam?"

Irene smiled and shook open a Chinese fan, her eyes scanning the field. "There are few who do not."

Ahmed leaned closer. The crowd was getting louder, and he sensed Herger getting restless next to him. "I have heard tales of the rivalry turning into riots where thousands have died. What do you have planned in the event of such a thing?"

Irene pointed toward the emperor's box. "With the Imperial Guards so close, I have never had a problem." At that moment a couple walking by called her name, and she stood to greet them with a smile and began talking animatedly in Greek.

As Ahmed sat back, he glanced at Herger. His friend's eyes were intently scanning the crowd and the track, taking in everything at once. Ahmed noticed that Herger's body was tense and his breathing quick. He was excited, and seemed ready for something. Ahmed clasped his hands between his knees and looked around, wondering if Herger knew something he did not.

After an hour of waiting, the races had still not started. Irene's slave had fetched her a pillow to lean against and poured her a cup of wine, so she was comfortable while chatting with friends and keeping the children entertained. The emperor arrived in his box with some fanfare. Herger had wandered off to explore, while Ahmed was growing drowsy from the sun beating down on his black clothing.

At the sound of horns, he straightened. Everyone scurried to their seats. Herger jogged up the hill and took his spot next to Ahmed as the crowd roared with renewed effort.

The emperor dropped the _mappa_ from his box, some bit of bright fabric that flashed in the sunlight. The horses bolted forward, thundering down the track. Everyone stood at once.

Ahmed cursed the people whose heads were in his view and got to his feet just in time to see flashes of blue and green on the field below. Irene's children were hopping and yelling excitedly, Elias tugging on his mother's skirts. Everyone seemed just as giddy as the children. Even Irene, normally so reserved, gave Ahmed a broad smile before turning her attention back to the the track as the horses came around again.

Two chariots were destroyed within five minutes, both drivers from the green Prasinoi team. Boos of disapproval from fans of the Prasinoi began to filter through the cheers. Loyal to Irene as he was, Ahmed began cheering enthusiastically for the blue Venetii. He could not tell who Herger was cheering for, but his friend was yelling so loudly his face was red.

In the end, the Venetii won the race, with a chariot driven by a two powerful bays leading. Irene had mentioned to Ahmed that many races would be held before a winning team was decided, but a mass of people raced from their seats to the track before the chariots lined up again. Irene reached for her daughter's hand. Ahmed saw the motion and leaned forward to speak over the deafening noise.

"What is wrong?"

Irene's voice came faint; she was facing away from him, still watching the seething crowd below. "I do not know."

But Ahmed quickly figured it out. He could see Venetii supporters fighting with Prasinoi supporters, and Prasinoi supporters starting up into the stands to pick more fights.

Directly below them, a large group of lower class men started up the slope. Several of the emperor's guards began pushing back. Ahmed saw knives pulled. His blood began pounding, the noise of the crowd receding to the background.

"We are getting out of here," he yelled to Irene. "Now!"

The emperor's guards had their swords drawn, but the crowd was now too big for them to hold back. Everywhere around them, Irene's friends and fellow businessmen were scrambling for the exits. Ahmed smelled smoke and heard horses whinnying in panic.

Herger's hand clapped onto his shoulder. "You get the children. I will--"

When he didn't finish, Ahmed looking over his shoulder. Herger was struggling with a man Ahmed didn't recognize.

That wasn't quite right. Herger's knife was sticking out of the man's body.

Herger pushed him away, the knife sliding out of his chest. Red blood gushed over his green robe.

Irene's daughter began screaming. Ahmed whipped around and picked up the two boys, meeting Irene's gaze. "Follow me."

They hurried across the trampled grass, slipping on discarded cloaks and spilled wine. The boys were too heavy for Ahmed to carry but began running on their own when he set them down. He could hear Thecla behind him, whimpering but no longer screaming, which meant Irene was with her. If Irene had fallen behind, he would hear renewed screams. But Herger he could not hear, and he did not dare a glance over his shoulder for fear of losing his step.

When they reached the street, Ahmed pulled the boys out of the flow of foot traffic and stopped. Irene caught up and stooped, pulling her daughter into her arms. And there, there was Herger, hardly out of breath.

"Do not stop," he said brusquely to Ahmed.

"Their litter--"

"We do not have the time. We go by foot."

Ahmed nodded, patting the eldest boy on the shoulder. "Follow Herger, Palladius."

Ahmed waited until Elias joined his brother, and then fell into step with Irene and Thecla. "Are you all right, madam?"

"Just out of breath," she laughed, but the sound was forced. She patted Thecla's shoulder, keeping her other arm firmly wrapped around her shoulders. "We are fine. Thank you for your help, Ahmed," she added, meeting his gaze as they walked. "I want to speak with you and Herger when we reach home."

He nodded, then had to focus on Herger's head as they moved through alleys and cross streets. Herger, having learned the city thoroughly, was leading them on a winding route. Ahmed had to be attentive to make sure they were not separated.

They returned to the house safely, and were met at the doors by Irene's servants. The one man who had been with them at the hippodrome had returned to the house without meeting harm, to Irene's relief. Irene took her children to their rooms and then met with Ahmed and Herger in the sitting room.

"Please sit," she said distractedly, ringing a small bell for a slave. When a girl arrived, she directed her to light some lamps, close the drapes, and pour refreshments for her and the two men. Within a few minutes, she sank onto her divan and touched her cheek with a cup in hand.

"I am much too warm, and my head hurts," she said after a moment of silence. "But I am grateful to you for getting me and my family home safely. You were right to worry," she said to Ahmed. "But not for the reasons you think." She paused to take a sip of wine.

"The man you killed was a slave, belonging to a man I know," she continued, looking at Herger. "His owner is my late husband's nephew, Basil."

Ahmed frowned and put down his cup. "It was not an attack?"

"He was trying to kill _her_ , you fool." Herger took a gulp of wine and stood, putting his back to Ahmed.

"Stop that," Irene said sharply. Herger looked at her evenly, not saying anything more. She gave him a long look in return, not blanching from his strong gaze, then turned to Ahmed.

"It _was_ an attack. Basil likely sent him to kill me so that he may obtain guardianship of my children. He longs for the power of my business and the control of my family."

While Ahmed absorbed this, Irene turned back to Herger. She stood and walked over to him, looking up from her diminutive height.

"I want to hire you to be my family's guardsman. I know what excellent fighters the Northmen are. Will you live up to the standard set by the Varangian soldiers, and accept?"

Ahmed smothered a smile, silently congratulating Irene on hitting at Herger's pride while making the offer.

Herger put his hand on the pommel of his knife. He bowed his head briefly; not so much a nod, but not prostrating himself before her. "I have already saved your lives for free. I would be foolish to refuse."

"That you are not," Irene said, with bite to her tone. She returned to her seat, curling up with her cup of wine. "This afternoon has strained us all to unpleasant ends. Please excuse me, gentlemen."

Ahmed rose and bowed silently as Herger walked out. He trailed his companion until the doors closed behind them, then quickened his step and clasped Herger's arm.

"I had not expected this of you."

"What?" Herger gave him a glance as he shook his arm free and kept walking. "To accept?"

"To care for her. That is why you were short with me, and why you took her offer."

Herger did not respond. Ahmed let that go and continued, "What did you see at the hippodrome?"

"The man had a knife. He was an easy kill."

Ahmed rolled his eyes heavenward at that. They walked in silence the rest of the way to their apartment before Ahmed continued. "I did not expect you to make to such a commitment. Now you are not so free to leave on a whim, are you?"

Herger dropped his knife and gloves to the floor, then reached out quickly and cupped Ahmed's genitals through his clothing. He grinned. "And give up all this?"

Ahmed nudged his hand away and went into the library, taking his seat behind the desk. "You could have sex anywhere, with me or with others. That's not why you stay."

"You are especially slow today, I think." Herger leaned across the desk and batted the empty pen out of Ahmed's hand. Ahmed sighed and braced his hands on the desk edge.

"I have stayed for many reasons, you included," Herger continued. "Now I stay because she will pay me. Does that satisfy you?"

"Yes," Ahmed said quietly.

Herger came around the desk and leaned his hip on the edge. Ahmed forced himself not to react as the letter there was creased by Herger's weight.

"You do not sound satisfied."

"I have work to do, and you are in my way."

"We have just saved their lives. Her letters can wait." Herger crossed his arms over his chest, not budging. Ahmed opened his mouth, but he was too tired to think of a quick response.

"This one cannot."

Irene was standing at the door, holding up a folded piece of paper. Herger moved away from the desk and watched her silently, arms still folded. Ahmed immediately went to her.

"Deliver that to the home of Petros Adralestos," she instructed him quietly. "He is a close friend of my husband, in high favor with the emperor. He is one of the few in the emperor's court I can trust for council about this attack. The letter must be delivered successfully, so I need someone I can rely on to take it. And Ahmed," she added as he accepted the letter, "do not let him bully you."

"Adralestos?"

"Herger." She patted his arm and left.  


 

Ahmed asked one of Irene's slaves where Adralestos lived. He was far away, across the broad waters of the Golden Horn, in the Genoa quarter. In his trip to deliver the note, Ahmed had to pay for ferrymen to take him back and forth. It was after nightfall when he returned to his apartment.

As the slave at the front doors let him enter, it was whispered to him that dinner would be sent to his rooms, and that Irene had left word that he should let his work rest until the morrow. Ahmed nodded gratefully and trudged on, thinking only of putting a cool cloth on his brow and getting his boots off.

Herger was nowhere to be seen when he got into the main room. He washed his face and took off his dishdashah and turban, then answered the door when his food was delivered.

After he ate, he poured a cup of tea and stretched out on the bed. He meant to read some of a Roman general's treaty on the policies, strategies, and difficulties of leading an army, thinking that perhaps an insight into a cunning mind would teach him about the more dangerous aspects of Constantinople politics and society.

Instead, he woke later with the lamp still burning and the tea cold. Herger was standing above him with a hand on his shoulder, and gestured for him to get up.

He followed Herger to their small courtyard, where there was a stone bench with Herger's cloak thrown over it and a cup of wine on the ground. Herger sat down next to him and pulled him to lie back until they were stretched lengthwise along the bench. For a few minutes, Ahmed listened only to the faint sounds of the night.

"I have been out here thinking," Herger said finally. His mouth was close to Ahmed's ear, breath ruffling his hair. "I miss the quiet of sleeping out in the night air. How you could hear everything and nothing, and know you were among the only souls for an eternity in every direction. How bright the stars were."

Ahmed looked up. The stars were fainter in the city. He hadn't noticed.

He turned his head to address Herger. "So you do want to leave."

"No." One of the arms wrapped around his chest began to move, the hand stroking his side through his clothes. "Just thinking. I wish we could have travelled alone, just the two of us."

"But that would have been dangerous."

Herger said nothing. Ahmed felt as if he'd missed a crucial point, but there was no getting it back.

They lay in silence for a little while, not moving, just Herger's hand stroking his side absently. Ahmed had just felt his eyes start to drift closed when Herger moved his head. Warm lips pressed behind his ear.

The kisses trailed down his neck, with Ahmed tilting his head to allow them passage. The stroking hand moved from his side to the center of his body, brushing over the expanse of his chest and slipping into his trousers. Cool fingers combed through dense, curly hair and rubbed his belly, avoiding his prick.

Eventually Herger could reach no lower with his mouth, and pulled his hand free.

"Bed."

Ahmed hummed his agreement.

He followed Herger back inside and closed the doors behind him, then motioned for Herger to stop when his friend started to unlace his boots. After the awkward moment of conversation outside, he wanted to show Herger that he did care for him and wanted to be with him.

With Herger sitting on the edge of the bed, Ahmed knelt and unlaced the boots for him, loosening the criss-crossing ties running up the sides and pulling them off.

Next he stripped Herger's shirt over his head. The shirt had been cleaned and mended, though it was still simple and poorly constructed. Herger had refused to wear anything newer, and at this moment Ahmed realized he'd rather not see Herger wear anything that was not solely his.

Ahmed was still fully clothed and Herger had his trousers on, but Ahmed easily became distracted. He pressed Herger down onto the bed and crouched over him, pressing his mouth to the head of the monster inked on Herger's chest. Herger pushed his fingers into his hair and held his head as Ahmed began tracing the patterns with his lips, moving up Herger's chest and over his shoulder.

When he had kissed every line in reach on one design, he switched to another. The pattern called the "Greek key" ringed Herger's right arm, surrounded by swirling black curves and decorative dots that seemed characteristic of the Northmen. Ahmed followed the designs around, licking the soft skin on the underside of his arm and smelling his strong scent when Herger let his arm rest above his head. There were Latin letters above the crook of his elbow, "FCE," but Ahmed didn't know what they stood for.

The inked designs were a curious mix of styles and cultures, but they seemed so fitting for a man who made his home from the world.

Herger tugged on his hair gently. Ahmed kissed him deeply before whispering, "Do not leave without me."

Herger kissed him back. "I would not."

Ahmed lowered his mouth to Herger's again, but was surprised when Herger grabbed him by his tunic and rolled them over, fully onto the bed. It was in that moment that there was a shift; Herger stopped being passive and began to pull off Ahmed's clothes. He quickly stripped Ahmed naked, then pulled back to remove his own trousers.

Ahmed lay back on the pillows and pushed the covers down, inviting Herger to join him. Herger kicked off his pants and crawled onto the bed, skin and ink creating patterns of light and dark as he moved. He propped himself above Ahmed and pressed his pelvis down, rubbing his belly and arousal against Ahmed's heated body.

Ahmed pulled him down for a kiss and pressed up against him, running his hand down Herger's back and enjoying the feel of firm muscle and hot skin. Herger spread his legs to straddle Ahmed and lay down fully, pressing their chests together while their mouths were fused. The position freed Ahmed's cock from the pressure of Herger's body and nestled him up against Herger's backside.

Ahmed moved his hips experimentally, brushing his arousal into Herger's cleft, and felt Herger moan softly against his mouth. Herger then sat up and leaned across the bed for something on a nearby table. He retrieved whatever it was he wanted and groped for Ahmed's hand, putting the object into his palm while kissing him again.

It was the jar of oil, Ahmed realized.

He nudged Herger away and opened the jar, pouring a little of the oil out onto his fingers. Herger took the bottle and put it aside while Ahmed rubbed the oil around his fingers, thinking of what he was about to do.

In the seven days since their last fight and reconciliation, Ahmed had become more comfortable with sex. They had yet to move beyond penetration with fingers, but it was getting easier to accept. Even then, Ahmed occasionally hesitated.

Herger saw him thinking and took his hand, guiding it behind himself. "Two fingers," he whispered with a grin.

Ahmed nodded, touching Herger's now-familiar body. He found the entrance and carefully pressed one finger inside, watching his face for any sign of discomfort.

Herger sighed and shifted his hips. Ahmed felt the deep muscles inside tighten around his finger, like gentle bonds. Every time that happened Ahmed wanted to feel that ripple and pulse again, and to _cause_ those muscles to do that. He pushed another finger in.

Herger grunted softly but didn't pull off. Ahmed remembered how Herger had thrust his fingers in and out of himself. He withdrew his fingers to push in deeper. Herger's mouth dropped open with a low groan as he rocked forward, hips rolling to move with Ahmed's fingers. "Yes."

Ahmed watched him intently, growing more aroused as he saw Herger enjoy the penetration. He ran his free hand over Herger's chest, trailing his fingers down to wrap around his erect cock. "Show me what to do."

Herger pushed into the circle of his fingers, breath hitching noticably. "Just this. Give me more." He swallowed and stopped moving.

Ahmed was confused for a moment while Herger picked up the oil, but his worries were quickly allayed. Herger drizzled the oil down the center of Ahmed's chest and rubbed it in with his hands. He purposefully dug his fingers into Ahmed's flesh, massaging and arousing, teasing his nipples. Ahmed was soon writhing, pumping his fingers in and out Herger's body and straining up against him for his own contact.

Herger moved his slick hands down to Ahmed's cock and took him in hand, spreading the oil up and down the shaft. In a few quick moves he reached back and pulled Ahmed's fingers out of his body, then shifted his hips backward and took Ahmed's cock inside him.

Ahmed cried out, fingers grasping for something to hold onto as he was assaulted by unfamiliar sensations. He found purchase in Herger's thighs and dug his fingers in, hips lifting off the bed in a frantic thrust. This was what he had been yearning for, for so long, without even knowing he wanted it. And it had come upon him so fast.

Herger laughed and braced his hands on Ahmed's shoulders, body moving easily with him. He leaned down and kissed Ahmed, speaking against his lips. "That's it. Hard. You can fuck me as hard as you want."

Ahmed couldn't respond. He was too overwhelmed with being inside someone again, not just in a mouth or a fist, but feeling his shaft gripped tightly by another person's body, massaged by warm, soft muscles.

He held on tightly and thrust into Herger's body again, moving more frantically as he quickly drew closer to his climax.

Herger moaned and sat up, his hands pressing on Ahmed's shoulders for leverage. He moved his hips with Ahmed's thrusts, sinking down onto his erection with a renewed groan every time. Ahmed could feel himself rubbing against some sort of firm bump. Remembering that Herger had touched some spot within him and what it had felt like, Ahmed understood now why Herger looked so undone by this simple act. It felt like thrusting into the tightest glove imaginable, better than any fist or mouth. He could hardly imagine how it would feel from Herger's perspective, how it would be so pleasurable that he would want this so much, more than being on the giving side.

Ahmed squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath, reaching for his climax. He could feel it, so close, and if he could just bury his cock in that tight heat a few more times he'd have it.

Herger gasped suddenly and Ahmed felt a splatter of wetness on his chest. At the same time the muscles around Ahmed's cock tightened. He opened his eyes, seeing Herger watching him dazedly, hand moving on his own cock. The sight and feel of Herger's release flung Ahmed into his own climax, making him cry out as he released inside Herger.

For a long moment he felt like he was floating in warmth, cradled by pleasure. He could hear his pulse loudly in his ears and his breath rush quickly in and out of his chest. Herger's panting was slightly quieter. Their bodies twitched with after effects.

Ahmed felt Herger's hands on his chest again, rubbing soothingly as he relaxed. He opened his eyes again and reached up, touching Herger's chest in return. He realized his fingers were aching from holding on to Herger's legs.

"That was intense." Herger continued to trail his fingers over Ahmed's stomach.

He nodded, breathing deeply as lethargy set in. He could feel himself softening and slipping out of Herger's body, but he didn't move to pull away as Herger kept stroking him.

Herger finally got out of bed, wetting a cloth in the wash basin. But when he brought it back, Ahmed ignored it and pulled Herger into the bed. He settled under the covers with him, not minding that Herger's emissions had been rubbed into his skin, when normally he was fastidious with cleaning up. The cloth dropped to the floor, ignored. This time he just wanted to sleep after release, because this time was different from anything else.

Herger smiled and stretched out on his side of the bed, turned toward Ahmed. Ahmed let his hand rest on Herger's waist and closed his eyes, sleep coming quickly upon him.


	13. Chapter 13

The morning after the riot, Ahmed and Herger were summoned to the formal reception room where meals and parties were presented to guests. There, Ahmed found Irene sitting at the head of a large table. A man about Ahmed's age was sitting in the space reserved for honored guests, at her right hand. Another man sat at her left hand, a gentleman old enough to be her father. He had flowing white hair and elaborate robes, and watched everyone in the room with a sharp-eyed expression of amusement.

"Welcome, Ahmed. Please sit." Irene gestured to the side of the table where the older man was watching them. Ahmed and Herger took the ornate backless chairs and sat.

"Allow me to present Petros Adralestos, son of Tarasios Adralestos, and Basil Maniaces, son of my late husband's brother."

Ahmed inclined his head to the older man and then the younger. Irene introduced him in return, listing every nasab perfectly. Adralestos leaned forward and offered a hand in greeting, which Ahmed shook. Basil made no move.

"I have invited you all here to discuss the events at the hippodrome yesterday," Irene finished.

"I was not present. It was quite the scene, so I hear," Adralestos commented.

"An attempt was made on my aunt's life," Basil said to Adralestos. "A sad day for all of us."

"Depending on which side you support," Irene murmured.

Ahmed digested this, remembering that the loyalties for the racing teams extended beyond the track. Politics, business, and Constantinople society itself revolved around the Prasinoi and Venetii.

Basil did not respond to her comment. Instead he continued, "My servant lost his senses and went on the attack against all Venetii supporters at the races. If it had not been for Irene's guard," he gestured to Herger, "I would kill him myself for the affront on my family," he ended gravely.

Herger rolled his eyes and sighed. "Irene," he said.

Irene's gaze shot down the table. Ahmed kicked Herger lightly, murmuring " _Madam_ " under his breath.

"Madam," Herger started again, "the man was attacking you specifically. He was not targeting any other people wearing the color of your team."

The look Irene gave Herger could wither spring grass. Herger got the message that she did not appreciate his slight against her intelligence, from the way he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. She murmured, "Thank you, Herger," and looked back at her nephew.

Adralestos sat back and toyed with a ring on his hand, watching the exchange with a tightlipped smile.

Basil spoke first. "You are not accusing me of an attempt on your life...are you, dear aunt?"

Irene forced a smile. "I am well aware of your feelings toward my family, Basil."

Basil kept his flat gaze on Irene's face as he answered, "In such brawls, one looks toward whoever is wearing one's enemy's colors. You know my house supports Prasinoi. I cannot help that one of my slaves got a stupid thought in his head and went on a rampage for every Venetii he saw. Perhaps women should not attend if they fear for themselves."

"I only fear intentional attacks on my family, not the hippodrome," Irene retorted. "And I will not stand for this behavior. Know that I will be keeping close watch on you." She stood, prompting everyone at the table to stand as well. Giving only a grim smile to Adralestos, she left the room without another word.

Adralestos looked at Basil. "As will I."

Basil curled his lip again. "Talk does not worry me. I have more important concerns." He pushed his chair away from the table and walked out with a cursory goodbye to the other man in the room.

Ahmed and Herger were left standing with the last guest. Adralestos stood and extended his hand to Ahmed again. "Hopefully that will be the end of this. Irene does not need the stress of Basil's quest for power."

"We all support her," Ahmed murmured, straightening his robes to walk with Adralestos to the door.

"Of that I have no doubt. But Basil has his own supporters, some of them more powerful than a widow with a good head for business. If you love her," he added, stopping to look at both Ahmed and Herger, "you will protect her life as if it is your own."

He left the room with a final goodbye.  


 

Ahmed and Herger returned to their rooms. Herger immediately pulled out his weapons and began going through his saddlebags, looking for something. Ahmed watched him for a moment before wandering into the library.

He felt out of sorts this morning, listless and distracted. He wanted to worry about what threat Basil represented to Irene, but instead his mind only focused on how messy the bed looked after last night. Thinking of how it had felt to have intercourse with Herger only made him long for more, regardless of how much work he had to do.

He shuffled paper and tools on his desk for a moment, then went back out to the main room. Herger looked up when he stood next to him.

"How do you feel after last night?" Ahmed asked.

Herger shrugged and picked up a whetstone, pouring a little oil on it and scraping the tip of a dagger through the puddle. "A little sore." He gave Ahmed a glance and grinned. "No worse than after a day in the saddle."

Ahmed nodded and sat on the edge of the bed, looking around their room. It was then that he noticed a folded stack of clothing on a table near the door.

Thinking that his tailor had sent something to the house, Ahmed went to investigate. Instead he found a simple tunic covered with blue clavi, not at all something that the tailor would choose for him.

"I believe these are for you," he said over his shoulder to Herger. Herger stopped in sharpening his blades and looked over as Ahmed pointed at the tunic. Herger looked at it, made a disgusted face, and went back to his work. Ahmed sighed and wandered back into the library.

He finished the last two letter copies Irene had requested, and recopied the one Herger had wrinkled. He waited in her reception room with them while one of her servants went to fetch her.

When she came in, he rose and bowed his head respectfully. She took the letters and thanked him, then gestured toward the stool and divan they had come accustomed to taking. They sat and Irene ordered tea to be brought.

"I realize that I did not take you into my employ to be my political advisor," Irene said softly. She met Ahmed's gaze and reached out, taking one of his hands. "But I need all the allies I can get. Basil has the favor of the emperor. If I am not careful, I could lose all I have."

"I am dedicated to helping you in whatever way I can, madam." Ahmed held her fingers gently in his. Her skin was as soft as petals and smelled like fruit.

"Just as you are dedicated to Herger?"

He tilted his head at that, not understanding.

Irene pulled her hand from his, standing when the tea was brought in. She gave Ahmed his cup and, when she was seated with hers, continued with her point. "I know that you have a relationship. It does not matter to me what the details of that relationship are, but only that you treat me with the respect deserving of my station."

Ahmed hastily swallowed a mouthful of tea, burning his tongue. "Have I done anything to make you think I would not?"

Irene put her untouched tea aside. "No. I only want to be sure of your position here."

"You need not doubt that, madam." He felt stung that she seemed to doubt him.

"Which is why I am sending you back to your tailor. He needs you for a fitting. When you are finished, that will be all for the day."

Bewildered even further by her final words, Ahmed thrust his insecurities and doubts aside and put faith in the kindnesses she had shown him up to this point. He thanked her for her time and left the room.

When he arrived in the tailor's shop, he found an entire new set of clothes for him, from pants and a silk undershirt to an elaborately decorated outer robe. The style was based on his Arabic clothing but with fewer layers and more embellishment, which the Byzantines favored.

The tailor took his measurements and promised to have the alterations finished within the week. Not having ordered the garments himself, Ahmed could not be anything but pleased at the promise.

When he returned to the house, he realized the reason for the tailor's speed. Thecla was talking animatedly with her mother in the foyer, and when Ahmed walked in, Irene explained her excitement, and the reason for Ahmed's fitting.

"I have been planning my daughter's coming-out party. We will be holding it here, in three days."

Ahmed smiled, turning to the twelve-year-old. She had her mother's eyes and thick, curling hair, but a full mouth that resembled Basil's; undoubtedly from her father's family. "This is happy news. May the blessings and grace of Allah be upon you."

Thecla thanked him quietly, still too shy around him to be very gregarious with him in direct conversation. They were then distracted by Herger coming into the foyer, followed by Thecla's brothers.

Herger had gone to the boys' rooms after taking care of his weaponry. He didn't need to be with them at all times while in the house, but he apparently wanted the children to acclimate to his presence. The plan was working. Rather than being mute and terrified of him as they were in the beginning, the boys were now eager to show off and entertain him, vying for his attention.

Their commotion was not cheering to Ahmed. On the walk back from the tailor's shop, he had been entertaining an idea to spend time with Herger since he had no assignment from Irene, but he would not be able to do that now.

He greeted Herger and went on to his rooms, back to feeling itchy in his skin.  


 

Later that night, Ahmed lay in bed with the sweat cooling on his body and listened to Herger's breathing steady. After a few minutes of silence he sensed Herger moving on the bed next to him, and from the sound of his voice realized that Herger had propped himself up to look at Ahmed.

"What has you so distracted?"

"Nothing." He rolled onto his side and put his hand on Herger's back, stroking through the sweat and feeling the muscles loosen under his touch. Herger dropped back down to his stomach and grunted softly.

"You think I am blind? I can tell that your mind was not here tonight."

"I thought the point of this activity was to lose one's mind," Ahmed answered sardonically. He sighed and pushed his hand under his pillow. "I am worried about these new circumstances with Irene and her nephew. I do not wish to become embroiled in a stranger's politics and get myself killed."

Herger's response came slowly, his voice slurred with sleepiness. "I am certain no one will kill an unknown Arab poet on the basis of politics."

Pulling a blanket up over his chest, Ahmed considered this. He could hear Herger's breathing slowing more as he drifted into sleep. "Of course you are right," he whispered, more for himself than for Herger.  


 

The day of Thecla's party, Ahmed rose from bed late in the morning and dressed in his new clothes. Herger lay in bed and made admiring noises as the layers went on, the close-fitting trousers and the flowing shirt. Before Ahmed could put on the outer robe, Herger got out of bed and crossed the room in nothing but his skin, grabbing Ahmed's head in both hands and kissing him deeply. Just as Ahmed started to kiss him back, Herger bit him hard on the lip and squeezed his buttocks firmly, then stepped away with a laugh when Ahmed flinched.

"That hurt," Ahmed said, rubbing his mouth.

"But after the sting fades, it will throb pleasantly when you think of it," Herger grinned. He pulled on his leather trousers and began tying up the laces. Ahmed dropped his hand, realizing that Herger was speaking from experience, and that he was quite right. The feeling of warm swelling gave him a new thrill of excitement.

He had just pulled his robe on when he noticed Herger reaching for his old shabby shirt, and made a sound to stop him. He nodded toward the new tunic Irene had given him. "She will not allow you out of this apartment unless you wear that."

Herger snorted derisively, but Ahmed was right and they both knew it. He picked the tunic up off the chair where it had been sitting for four days, and underneath it found a large silver cuff. The lustrous metal was decorated with semiprecious stones, deep blue lapis lazuli, striated malachite, and fiery carnelian. Ahmed picked up the cuff and rubbed his thumb across the stones, then took Herger's wrist and put the cuff on his arm.

"This is not for me," Herger protested. He started to take it off, but Ahmed wrapped his hand around the cuff.

"Devout Muslims do not wear jewelry. It was under your shirt. Is it so unimaginable that Irene would give you a gift?"

Herger gave him a skeptical look and pulled his arm away. It was Ahmed's turn to laugh at him. "She likes you. Surely you can concede that."

It seemed that Herger started to agree, but before Ahmed could get a confirmation, there was a knock at the door. Herger finished dressing as Ahmed answered and found one of Irene's servants waiting.

"Madam requests you," the man said politely. He nodded to Herger, behind Ahmed. "Both of you."  


 

In Irene's reception room, she smiled when she saw them in their new garments. She clapped her hands and then gestured for Herger to come closer, and took his hand to push his sleeve up one arm. The cuff shone in the sunlight pouring through the open windows.

"This was from my husband's coffers. I hope you do not mind my giving it to you. It means a great deal to me, but because it is a man's piece, I cannot wear it myself."

Herger smiled, going down to one knee as she continued to hold his hand. He kissed her fingers, gaze connecting with hers. "I am honored to wear it, madam. Thank you for such a beautiful gift."

Ahmed snorted to himself, watching this display from a few feet away. Quite a change from Herger's earlier attitude toward the cuff!

"It is my pleasure to give it to you and see you wearing it, especially on a day such as this." With that, she rose and looked at Ahmed. "I need you to perform a quick task, Ahmed. I would like to send a brief note to the esteemed guests I am inviting today. I already sent the invitations days ago, the ones you copied in Greek. But extra attention would be highly regarded, especially if my Arab delivers them. You will need to finish them within the hour."

Ahmed nodded, accepting without hesitation, although his mind was racing. She also wanted him to deliver them? He could understand that having an exotic in her employ would make her seem more powerful, but he was not a slave, and free men did not perform such tasks. It was a bold decision on her part, and in a way took advantage of his loyalty.

Irene looked back at Herger. "And you, my lovely Northman. I need you at my daughter's side every minute tonight. Do not let her stray or meet with danger."

With their tasks given to them, Herger and Ahmed parted ways. Ahmed went back to his library with Irene to take dictation and learn to whom he had to deliver the notes. Herger went to the children's wing of rooms and began the increased guard duty Irene demanded of him. Ahmed felt nervous at having many people in the house, especially after the strange events involving Basil and the riot, but he was Irene's employee and subject to her decisions.  


 

To save his new clothes, Ahmed was taken around Constantinople on a litter by several of Irene's slaves to deliver the last-minute notes. At each of the five houses he visited, he was welcomed into a reception room and greeted jovially by Irene's friends. She was right, he saw; each man and wife seemed thrilled to see him and receive the extra attention.

He returned to Irene's house and was directed straight to the ballroom. All of the available slaves were there, setting out floor pillows and a huge feast. Irene was speaking with some musicians in a corner of the room. When she saw him enter, she smiled and called him over. As he approached, she produced a cup of cider for him.

"I hope you will enjoy yourself. You will be meeting many people," she said as she handed the cup over.

"I am looking forward to it." Ahmed sipped the drink. It was made from apples, cooked with a variety of spices and fermented to be a little intoxicating.

He stayed by Irene's side as guests trickled into the ballroom. Each couple approached Irene when they first entered, and she never failed to introduce Ahmed to them. He soon found himself caught in a conversation with a near stranger, each interrupted by Irene for new introductions, and starting a new conversation all over again. His head began to whirl with names and information.

Before he knew it, the musicians played a cue to capture the guests' attention. The ballroom doors opened and Thecla entered, smiling and blushing as the guests burst into applause. Herger was directly behind her, scanning the crowd with sharp eyes.

The musicians started playing again, and a crowd of young girls drifted onto the open floor to dance. They were friends of Thecla, having already had their coming out parties or preparing to do so. Ahmed watched the dancing for a moment, then looked for Herger in the crowd.

"As'salaam Alaikum," a quiet voice greeted him.

Ahmed turned and saw Irene standing next to him with an Arabic woman. Irene extended a hand toward each of them.

"May I present Ahmed ibn Fahdlan, my secretary. Ahmed, this is Naila al-Zarqa' bint Dabbah."

 _Al-Zarqa'_ : the blue-eyed.

Naila's _hijab_ was a gauzy blue, as vibrant and deep as the summer sky, and matched her eyes. They were lined with kohl and gazed at Ahmed with striking intensity.

As Ahmed took her hand and pressed it between his in greeting, Irene continued. "Naila is a widow, like me, and she helps me with my business, representing me in other cities and accompanying my caravans when she wants to return home. She has just arrived on the caravan from Baghdad."

Ahmed looked deeply into Naila's eyes, processing Irene's introduction. It was so refreshing to formally meet an Arabic woman, after being gone from his home for such a length of time. He felt as though knew so much of her with Irene's introduction, from only the few words and the sight of her: she was a Muslim, modest and pious, strongly connected to her roots. She was so different from the strange women practicing strange customs in the places he had been. So familiar.

He still held Naila's hand, feeling the brush of silk around her wrists.

"I have a note from your father," Naila said after Ahmed's long silence, a smile showing around her eyes. "You must pay me a visit, and I will give it to you."

Ahmed closed his eyes and bowed. "I would like that very much." Having broken eye contact, he felt as though he was released from a spell, and able to catch his breath again. He straightened and released Naila's hand. Irene moved away into the crowd.

"Have you been away from your home very long?" Naila asked, showing no intention of leaving Ahmed's company.

He nodded and sipped the last of his cider, then gestured for a slave to bring them both fresh drinks. "For over a year. I was an ambassador for the caliph, and then joined a band of Northmen on a mission to their lands. I have only recently returned."

"It has been two years since I have lived in Constantinople," Naila replied in her quiet voice. "I know how you must have been homesick."

Ahmed shook his head, putting a hand to his chest. "Madam, no! You have told me this, and now I know I have not felt homesickness as you must. Forgive my foolishness."

Naila smiled again, taking her drink from the slave who brought it. "There is no contest in heartache, and nothing to forgive."

Ahmed gestured to some empty floor pillows, and they took the cushions to talk more comfortably. "Please, tell me of Baghdad. What has changed?" Ahmed asked when they had settled.

He forgot about the rest of the guests and the party, leaning close to Naila to hear her in the loudness of the room. In their closeness, he could smell the musky sweet scent of her hair and skin. He was entranced by the way the heat of the room made her hijab cling to her mouth at times as she spoke.

At length, a shadow fell over them and Ahmed heard Irene call his name. He looked up to see her standing there, gripping her hands at her waist.

"Please come with me."

Ahmed excused himself and followed Irene out of the ballroom and to her reception room. Petros Adralestos was waiting there. Irene immediately turned to him and questioned him without preamble.

"Do you know where Herger is?"

Ahmed was confused. "Now?"

Irene clearly became impatient with him, her voice strained and a little loud. "Yes, now. He cannot be found. Thecla is missing as well."

Ahmed glanced at Adralestos with alarm, but the older man's face was hardly reassuring. He stared back at Ahmed, expression gloomy.

"No, madam, I am sorry. I have not seen him since your daughter made her entrance."

Irene sighed, looking more worried than ever. Adralestos came forward and took her arm, covering her hands with one of his, and looked at Ahmed. "Thank you. That will be all."

Ahmed nodded and excused himself from the room, but he would not let the matter drop. He immediately began looking for Herger as he moved through the house, intending to give him a severe tongue-lashing for worrying Irene and neglecting his duties.

Ultimately, he did not find Herger anywhere, but instead noticed that the noise in the ballroom had changed tone when he returned there. As he entered, he saw Herger standing behind Irene, and a stranger standing with Thecla in the center of the room. The musicians had stopped playing.

The crowd was abuzz. Some people were smiling smugly and chuckling, others whispering behind their hands. One or two couples looked as though they were enjoying Irene's predicament, avidly staring and talking to friends. A few looked unhappy and concerned. Ahmed saw one man shake his head and speak up.

"You know what you must do, Sophianos," he called to Irene over the noise.

She was pale but resolute. "I know, Jacob," she answered without taking her eyes off her daughter. Thecla's head was bowed.

Irene closed the space between them and lifted her daughter's head with a hand, murmuring something. Thecla did not blink or make a sound, although Ahmed could see the tracks of tears and bright red spots on her cheeks. Then Irene released her and gestured to Herger. Herger and Thecla left the room; Thecla banished to her bedroom, Ahmed surmised.

"I apologize for the disruption," Irene called to the room at large. "Please, stay and enjoy yourselves." She said this flatly, obviously knowing that some had already taken enjoyment in the spectacle.

The musicians started playing again, although the crowd had completely ceased to pay attention. Irene looked at the stranger next to her and led him from the ballroom.

She was gone for another hour. Ahmed spent the time caught in conversations with the rest of the guests. Naila found him again and introduced him to many of her old friends, keeping the flow of conversation smooth as they went around the room. If the other guests didn't want to know about him, Ahmed noticed, they talked about Irene and Thecla. Ahmed still didn't entirely understand what had happened, and so could only pretend to be engaged in those conversations.

While Naila kept the other guests engaged, Ahmed kept looking at her hands as she gestured while talking, noticing the henna designs on the palms and fingers. They reminded him of Herger's tattoos, and he found himself overly warm at the comparison. He gulped down cup after cup of cider to give himself a distraction, but soon found that his head was spinning. He took a floor cushion to rest, hoping that the effects of the fermented drink would wear off faster that way.

Eventually Irene returned, the stranger no longer at her side. It was getting late and many of the guests had started departing. Irene stood by the doors and said goodbye as they began to trickle out. At the same time Ahmed and Naila were talking to a man who was the primary source of marble for the city's buildings. The man was quite drunk, and his wife kept casting hopeful glances at Naila and Irene.

Finally Naila implied that she would be leaving, and Ahmed helped her to her feet to walk her to the door. The marble merchant and his grateful wife were directly behind them, the man having taken Naila's hint to leave.

Irene clasped Naila's hands and kissed her cheeks through her hijab. "Thank you for coming."

"It was my very great pleasure, despite the unfortunate event. You know you have my support and confidence." Naila cast a glance at Ahmed. "And you must come to my house soon and call on me."

"I will do that, madam." He smiled broadly, bowing again as she walked out. Irene smiled knowingly at him, a look that made him blush.  


 

When Ahmed returned to his apartment, he found Herger inside instead of with Thecla. Herger had a keg of the cider on the floor and was pouring its contents into his mead horn. He was having trouble, with the horn held between his knees and the cider slopping unevenly out of the full keg.

"What are you doing here?" Ahmed frowned, leaning against the closed doors.

"I was dismissed for the night, and now I am going to get drunk." Herger seemed satisfied with the level in the horn and set the keg down, then took a deep drink.

Ahmed pushed away from the door and crossed to where Herger sat, the room tilting dangerously as he walked. He sat heavily and pulled off his turban. Herger offered his horn, but Ahmed waved it away.

"I am already drunk, I think."

"Really." Herger gave him an interested look, smiling as he took another drink. "Neither the fermentation of grape nor of wheat, eh?"

"Apples do not count." Ahmed grinned, feeling silly.

"I would think your priests would not agree."

That dispelled some of Ahmed's mirth. He got to his feet and unraveled his turban, pulling the length of fabric away from the skull cap. "Probably not."

Herger came up behind him and draped an arm around his neck, the horn dangling from his fingers. "I thought you had come to some peace about this. I did not mean to stir it up."

"I had accepted that my spirituality is no longer aligned with the word of Muhammad," Ahmed admitted. He slipped away and hung up the skull cap and turban fabric. "But it is hard to go against everything I once believed."

"That I understand," Herger murmured.

Ahmed turned, trying to figure out what he might mean. He realized in a moment that Herger's position in Irene's household, working and living in Constantinople, away from the wilds of the north and the customs of his people, would of course all be foreign to him.

He nodded, taking Herger's horn and drinking from it.  


 

An hour later, they were undressed and under the bed covers. Ahmed had his arm over his eyes, hoping to make his head stop spinning. They had continued drinking and Ahmed was finding that more was not better. Herger was rubbing his stomach, telling him a rambling, pointless story about Hyglak to distract him from his discomfort.

Ahmed interrupted when a thought occurred to him. "Why were you dismissed tonight? What happened?"

Herger stopped the circling motions he was making on Ahmed's stomach. "The girl slipped away from me."

Ahmed waited, then raised his arm and looked at Herger. "That is it?"

"For Irene, that was enough to dismiss me."

Ahmed put his head down. "Of course, that would be. But why was Thecla so upset?"

Herger rolled onto his back, pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. "When she was found, it was with a man."

Ahmed's breath caught in his chest. "With? In bed?"

"No, just talking."

It was still enough for a scandal, Ahmed thought to himself. Thecla's reputation was compromised. She would not be able to marry in honor. And this on the day of her coming out party! No wonder Irene had been so upset.

"This is not good," Ahmed murmured to himself.

Herger snorted and rolled back onto his side, reaching over to continue rubbing Ahmed's stomach. "You do not have to tell me."

They fell asleep like that, Ahmed with his arm stretched overhead, Herger's hand on his chest.


	14. Chapter 14

Ahmed's reading was disturbed.

For a moment he didn' t know what it was that disturbed him. He lifted his head and listened, but there was nothing but the sound of birds in the courtyard.

He bent his head again, and that's when he heard it. Something high-pitched and far off. A human voice. A girl's voice.

Setting his book aside, he went to the door and listened down the hall. The sounds were more consistent, but still faint.

He walked down toward the main body of the house. He guessed that the sounds were Thecla, perhaps coming from Irene's reception room. He stopped at the top of the staircase, thinking that he would probably not be welcome.

As he was about to turn and go back to his room, he heard a door open and the sounds immediately get louder. Thecla was sobbing uncontrollably. In a moment she came running down the hall from her mother's rooms. She brushed by Ahmed and went down the staircase, disappearing somewhere on the floor below.

More voices came from Irene's rooms. In the next instant, Irene came into view, speaking over her shoulder.

"It is remarkable that you come to me with this offer so soon. I had no idea you were so invested in your friends' business." Irene reached the staircase and paused, not giving Ahmed a glance.

Basil came into view, following Irene.

"I am certainly concerned about Thecla. I trust we can discuss this further when she has calmed herself." Basil gave Ahmed a glance, then went down the stairs and out of the house.

Ahmed looked inquisitively at Irene. She sighed and started down the stairs. "Find Herger," she said with her voice raised, directing the command to Ahmed. As he watched, she disappeared in the direction Thecla had gone.

Ahmed went to retrieve his turban.

Herger was not at the nearest tavern, nor at the bathhouse. Ahmed resorted to finding a Varangian and asking him where Herger might be. The guard gave him a confused look when Ahmed spoke Norse, but he answered that Herger was at the hippodrome.

There were practices open to the public, Ahmed realized when he entered the arena. He scanned the arena's sloped sides until he saw a group of blond heads, then made his way over the grass.

Herger watched him coming but did not call out a greeting. He was chewing a stem of grass and leaning back on an elbow, reclined on the hill.

"Irene has called for you," Ahmed said when he came up to the group.

Herger nodded and gave his companions a nod. "Tonight, then."

"Bring Irene!" one replied. The group laughed.

Herger spat the grass out of his mouth and squinted at Ahmed as they walked. "What is it?"

"Something odd, involving Basil and the girl. Irene spoke sharply to me and gave no explanation. I have not seen her like this before."

"She sent you to find me?"

Ahmed nodded.  


 

They went straight to Irene's reception room when they reached the house. She was not there, so Ahmed called a slave to tell Irene that he had returned with Herger. When she came in, she was moving much more quickly than her usual graceful pace, and looked distracted.

Ahmed started to take his usual seat, but froze when she spoke.

"I did not ask you to sit, did I?"

Ahmed straightened. Irene was watching him without a trace of amusement. Herger cast him a look out of the corner of his eye.

"I am sorely disappointed in you," she continued, looking to Herger, sitting and tucking her feet under her legs on the divan. "I gave you a simple task and you failed at it. In doing so, you have brought shame upon my daughter and forced me into an uncompromising position."

"Your daughter brought shame upon herself," Herger returned.

Ahmed winced. He knew that the Northmen thought little of promiscuity; indeed, if a Northwoman was impregnated by her suitor, it was considered a good sign that she was fertile and worthy of an engagement. Herger would hold to such beliefs. Irene would not.

Irene's face reddened at Herger's inflammatory remark. She took a deep breath and looked down at her hands in her lap, obviously collecting herself. When she continued, her voice was soft and measured.

"My daughter is not responsible for keeping herself safe from predators. You were."

Past tense, Ahmed noted. He fought to keep from looking at Herger, keeping his gaze respectfully lowered.

"Now Basil has come to me on behalf of his friend, who was with Thecla at her party two days ago. His friend wishes to marry her. I cannot refuse because no one else will have her."

"Then your problem is solved." Herger smiled.

"Silence! Bite your tongue!" Irene stood, crossing the room and pushing Herger in the chest. He stumbled back a step, shocked that the tiny woman had physically confronted him.

"The problem is that if anything happens to me, Basil has control of my family! My fortune, my business, my children, everything! If he gains that kind of power, he will be valuable to those who want to seize the throne. Your ineptitude may have upset the delicate balance of power for this entire city!"

Ahmed stepped forward, worried at the strained quality of Irene's voice. He took her arm and pressed her gently back toward her divan, keeping his voice quiet.

"Madam, please calm yourself. Perhaps we should discuss this later."

Irene sat, but she shook her head. "We will discuss this now. Bring me tea."

Ahmed called for a slave with a blush of embarrassment. He had thought he was developing a friendship of sorts with Irene, but she was treating him like one of her slaves.

While they waited for the tea, Irene allowed them to sit down with her. Herger brought in a second stool and put it next to Ahmed's, but did not look at him. They were both uncomfortable with Irene's anger and condemnation, and did not want to inspire more with any inappropriate glances.

After the tea was brought and Irene had taken a few sips, she explained her thoughts.

"Not many people know this, but Basil is a supporter of a man who wants the throne. For years he has been doing whatever he can to usurp Romanus Lecapenus, who is our emperor. Most likely he or someone close to him started the riot at the hippodrome, which is why Basil's slave targeted me."

"To gain your power?" Ahmed ventured.

Irene nodded. "Basil stood to inherit my husband's business. He was anticipating it, because for many years I was without children. When Thecla finally came, Basil was angry with us. Now I believe he will do anything to take my power. One of his friends is the man who compromised Thecla, and the only suitor she will likely have. With the marriage, Basil will have inside access to my family."

Ahmed was silent, taking in this information. Irene looked at him and Herger for a moment, then said, "You understand?"

"Yes, madam," Herger answered before Ahmed could speak. He was surprised. Herger's voice was quiet, and he sounded contrite.

Irene looked satisfied with his response.

"Madam, if I may..." Herger continued. Irene nodded. "Nothing will happen to you or your family, so long as I live."

"Thank you for that, but it is little comfort now," Irene said. Her voice was flat.

Herger seemed speechless. He only nodded, his expression somber.

"If you will excuse me," Irene continued, rising to her feet, "I need to continue talking with my daughter. That will be all today, from both of you."

A thought occurred to Ahmed. He paused in following Herger to the door, turning and murmuring, "Madam?"

When Irene looked at him, he continued, "What if your friend Petros Adralestos married Thecla? I discovered in delivering notes to him that he does not have a family."

Irene smiled and took Ahmed's arm, walking him the rest of the distance to the door. "He is a eunuch. The archieunich, in fact; leader of their faction in Constantinople, a chief officer in the court."

Ahmed nodded, resigned. He had been around many eunuchs in the caliph's court and harem, and knew very well the lonely places they held in societies. A marriage would be impossible.

Irene stopped at the door and released his arm. "Good day, Ahmed."  


 

Back in the apartment, Herger seemed disinclined to leave again and Ahmed was too upset to go back to his reading. He sat out in the courtyard and thought about the meeting with Irene, not noticing Herger until he came outside with a book in hand.

Herger sat on the paving stones with his back to the bench and handed the book to Ahmed. It was a primer for learning Greek, and they had put it to use in the evenings since the party. They were both too weak in the language to put it to much use, and Ahmed thought that finally learning it would be important if they spent much more time in the city.

Ahmed understood that now Herger wanted the challenge of learning to occupy his mind, and took the book to resume the lessons.

After a few hours in the courtyard, it drew close to the time for supper. Ahmed remembered that Herger had apparently made plans for the night, judging from his interactions with the Varangians at the hippodrome. He stayed in the courtyard after they had completed the day's work. But after a few minutes, Herger came to the doorway and called his name.

"You will come with me this night."

Herger had kept his promise to dine with Ahmed in the evenings, but it was usually in the house. Some nights he made other arrangements out in the city with his friends, but this was the first night he had done so and invited Ahmed.

Ahmed changed into a more common-looking tunic and robe, not wanting to intimidate Herger's friends with finery that would be out of place in the cook shops.

Herger took him to a tavern far from the rich quarter, northwest further onto the mainland, where the lower classes lived and farms butted up to the city limits. Herger explained that the Varangians sometimes liked to escape from the confines of the city, and came here, to the open area between the ruined Constantian wall and the sturdy Theodosian wall.

There was already a crowd of Varangians at the inn. Herger sat and pointed to an empty spot on the bench for Ahmed, holding a hand up when his companions started to protest.

"Keep your mouths shut. He is my little brother, Eben."

Ahmed reached for a chicken leg, knowing instinctively on what level to interact with the Varangians, after so long in the presence of other Northmen. "And do not try to talk about me as if I do not understand you," he said to the group in Norse.

A few of the men laughed into their ale tankards, while others raised their glasses in welcome. Some looked at Ahmed with unrelieved skepticism, but they kept their mouths shut out of deference to Herger.

The food at the inn was not as good as what Ahmed could get in Irene's house, but the company made it more enjoyable. He could not remember having so much fun, laughing at the Northmen's jokes and listening to their stories. Herger drank a great deal of ale and became as loud and affable as he usually was when intoxicated, but, to Ahmed's relief, not as amorous.

Long after they had finished eating, the Varangians started to disperse, looking for warm beds or warm bodies. Ahmed pulled Herger to his feet and told a slave boy to fetch their horses.

The trip back was long. Ahmed had to go slowly to make certain Herger did not fall off his mount, but fortunately the massive steed's back was so broad that it would have been like falling off the floor. They eventually made it home without any mishaps.

Ahmed helped Herger inside and put him to bed. He took a little longer to undress himself and wash his face, and by the time he put out the light, Herger was snoring.  


 

Ahmed had been dreaming.

He sighed and burrowed into his pillow, hips shifting restlessly. Whatever he had been dreaming about had been arousing, and he was left with a morning erection. But he was too sleepy to do anything about it, so he kept his eyes shut.

"Ahmed."

So Herger was awake. Ahmed made a soft sound of acknowledgment.

"Ahmed, wake up."

Ahmed inhaled and opened his eyes. He saw an expanse of black and pink, and realized he had his face pressed to Herger's shoulder. His pelvis was fitted snugly against Herger's backside. Herger felt very warm and comfortable. He did not want to disturb this position, but Herger had said his name.

"Sorry," he grunted, trying to put a bit of space between them to roll over. Instead Herger reached back and grabbed his hip, digging in his fingers.

Herger turned his head to speak over his shoulder. "Get the oil."

Ahmed's sleepy brain took a moment to process this, and then he figured out what Herger was demanding. He rolled over and retrieved the pot they had taken to storing under the bed, then wrestled off his libas and rolled back.

At the first touch of oiled fingers to his hole, Herger moaned quietly and turned his face into the pillow. Ahmed pushed his messy hair aside and leaned in to kiss his neck as he pushed his fingers in. He smelled sweat and smoke, felt the soft scratch of Herger's beard when he turned to meet Ahmed's kiss. The position was awkward and Herger only licked his lips before turning away.

"Wait, wait, wait," Herger murmured. He got up on his knees and elbows, the blankets and furs slipping off his body. Ahmed got on his knees behind him and put more oil on his fingers, slipping two in at once and reaching around Herger's hip to feel his erection. Herger was hot inside and out. Ahmed bit his lip, hardening completely as he stretched Herger's entrance.

"Enough," Herger grunted. "Fuck me. Now."

Ahmed could not put oil on himself fast enough. They had not done this position before. The newness of it, and Herger's eagerness, both thrilled him. He pressed himself against Herger's opening and grabbed his hips, holding on as he pushed inside.

Herger gasped and pressed his forehead to the bed, rocking backward in small moves until Ahmed was completely embedded.

Ahmed paused and drizzled some more oil down Herger's cleft, then rubbed it around the stretched skin and the base of his cock. He felt a sense of satisfaction as he did this, even though he was aching with unfulfillment. He liked Herger in this position, stretched and spread and waiting to be taken, subject to Ahmed's decisions.

He thrust his weight forward from the hips. Herger gasped and moaned "Yes" into the pillow, pushing back against him with unabashed urgency.

Ahmed found that it was much easier to move in this position, using his grip on Herger's hips to stay balanced while he pulled out and thrust in again. He could go deeper, too. Herger quickly began moaning continuously as Ahmed pounded into him, desire erasing the cloud of sleep and inciting a frenzy.

"There!" Herger yelped, his voice muffled. Ahmed realized he had changed his angle slightly, and repeated it with his next thrusts. Herger cried out again and again, wordless now. He grabbed the pillow in his fists and pushed back hard, nearly knocking Ahmed off balance as he drove them both to completion.

Ahmed felt Herger's body clench around him and drove in for the final thrusts he could manage, digging his fingernails into Herger's skin as his orgasm wracked his body.

Finally he pulled out and dropped to his side, breathing hard. Herger rolled over to lay on his back, putting the wet spot between them. They were silent as they collected themselves.

Ahmed was deeply satisfied with himself. Herger had not even touched himself, and yet he had reached completion.

"Gods," Herger whispered at length.

Ahmed smirked. "Good morning."

He got up to clean himself, leaving Herger to lay in bed. He had just finished shaving when a knock came at the door. Swearing to himself, Ahmed pulled on the nightshirt his tailor had given him. Herger heard the swearing and laughed.

A slave stood at the door with a message from Irene. She was leaving the house and needed Herger to accompany her as her guard.

Ahmed nodded at the message, feeling foolish in his nightshirt. A simpleton could tell that it had not been slept in, and he knew he reeked of sweat and sex. But the slave gave no indication he thought something was amiss. When the message had been delivered, Ahmed closed the door again.

Herger had heard the news and was already up, giving himself a perfunctory wash with the basin water and then dressing quickly. Ahmed changed out of his nightshirt and into his regular clothing. Herger was on his way to the door when another knock came.

"Sir has a visitor," the slave said when Herger answered.

"Who?"

"Naila al-Zarqa'."

Herger cast a look over his shoulder at Ahmed, who had paused in pulling on his shoes. "That would be for you." He brushed past the slave, going to meet Irene in the foyer.

Ahmed glanced around the room, wincing at the state it was in. Naila could not see it; she would know immediately that someone had been having sex here. With the slave already gone to fetch her, Ahmed hurriedly threw open the door to the courtyard and the windows in the library, hoping to at least clear out the air.

He heard the slave announce Naila's name and came out of the library to greet her. She was looking at the bed with its messy sheets, but nodded politely when Ahmed greeted her.

"Please forgive the state of my apartment. I did not realize you would be brought here, and the servants have not been in to clean yet."

"It is early for visiting," Naila answered. Without the noise of the party around them, Ahmed could more easily hear the subtle tones of her soft voice. "I asked to come to your rooms to see what you have been doing in Irene's library."

"Then I will show it to you. This way, please."

Naila walked around the room as Ahmed talked about what he did as Irene's employee. As he talked, he examined her from afar.

Today she wore green silk pants and a long tunic that reached her calves. Layers of chemises peeked out from under the tunic in a lighter green color that complemented the main pieces. All of the cuffs were snug around her wrists and ankles. Her hijab was fastened firmly behind her jaw, the pieces of fabric covering her hair and face. She was completely obscured, but Ahmed found her modesty alluring.

She turned and looked at him, one hand resting on his workspace. He realized he had fallen silent, and bowed in a quick, brief movement.

"I think you will like the courtyard. May I show it to you?"

"Yes, please."

A slave was making the bed as they walked through the main room. Ahmed watched with relief as the soiled sheets were taken out, and then he followed Naila outside.

"This is lovely," she murmured as they came into the cool winter sunshine. She sat on the bench and patted the spot next to her, waiting until Ahmed sat before reaching inside her sleeve.

"I decided not to wait for you to come to me. I did not get to this place in my life by waiting for men." She pulled out a folded piece of paper. Ahmed recognized the wax seal as his father's.

She took his hand and pressed the packet into his palm, then curled his fingers around it.

"Your father and I talked before I left Baghdad. I hope you will consider what he says in this letter."

Ahmed was immediately intrigued, but now was not the time to read the letter. He tucked it into his own sleeve and took Naila's hand, holding it between his.

"I thank you for delivering it. How is my father?"

Naila squeezed his fingers and did not pull her hand away. "He is fine. You will have to read his letter before I give you any more news of him. The business is well and he is doing a large amount of trade with Irene.

"I also spoke with some friends of yours," she added. "Two poets who overheard my conversation with your father. They miss you greatly."

"And I them," Ahmed murmured. He began thinking of all he had left behind. For months he had not let his memories and desires enter his thoughts, for there was nothing he could do to have them again. But in Constantinople he was so close to his home country, and it crept back into his thoughts. Naila at his side exacerbated his homesickness, for she represented Baghdad in all its glory.

Her soft voice broke into his thoughts. "I have guests coming to my home and must return for them." She pulled her hand gently from his, rising to her feet. "Thank you for receiving me, Ahmed. Please, do not make me extend my invitation to you again."

Ahmed flushed as he stood. "Madam, I cannot refuse your hospitality any longer. You will not be disappointed."

Naila gave him a long, measuring glance that traveled from his shoes to the top of his head. "Of that I am sure."

The blush stayed on Ahmed's cheeks as they walked back through his rooms. He saw Naila to the main entrance and bid goodbye to her there, fighting a smile on his lips until she was gone from view.  


 

Immediately after Ahmed closed the main door, Herger appeared from a side hallway. Ahmed had been going toward the staircase, but paused when he saw Herger.

"You did not go with Irene?"

"Her errand was quickly finished." Herger said no more, following when Ahmed continued up the stairs.

"Naila came to see the library and deliver me a note from my father," Ahmed continued as they entered the apartment. "If you will excuse me, I am going to read it."

Herger made no response, so Ahmed went into the library and sat down at his desk. He broke the seal and opened the letter.

 _My son,_

 _Greetings and the blessings of Allah upon you. I am relieved to receive word that you are alive and well in Constantinople, and at the home of my friend and business associate, no less. Irene Sophianos will take very good care of you. Your family and friends miss you here in Baghdad, but I know you will be safe and happy in Madam Sophianos's care._

 _I will send a little money with Naila al-Zarqa'. I trust her completely and know she has your best interests at heart. We talked extensively about you before she left. In fact, she has long been a friend of mine in our business transactions. I have considered asking her to be my wife after your mother died, but I do not think it would make a happy union._

 _Write me again as soon as you receive this. I do not want to lose contact with you for so long again._

 _May the love and mercy of Allah be with you always._

 _Fahdlan ibn Al Abbas_

Such a short letter! And more confusion from it. Ahmed put it aside and went back into the bedroom, finding Herger stretched out on the bed, fully clothed.

Ahmed sat next to him and looked out at the courtyard, thinking of how Naila had been there not long before. Why would his father not think their marriage would be happy?"

"Whose marriage?"

Ahmed realized he had been thinking aloud. "My father wrote that he has thought of proposing marriage to Madam al-Zarqa', but rejected the idea for reasons he did not state."

"He should do it. Then she will not chase after you like a bitch after scraps."

Ahmed craned his neck to look at Herger. "She does not!"

Herger smirked and only shrugged.

But Naila was rather insistent that Ahmed call on her. And she had not passed on any funds from Ahmed's father. Perhaps Herger had a point. But Ahmed would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

He changed the topic. "Irene still wants you as her guard."

Herger folded his arms behind his head. "So it would seem."

"She did not say anything to you?"

"Nothing. I went with her to two of her shops, and no word to me. She is still angry."

"For someone as sensitive to insults as you, I would think you would be more careful not to make them," Ahmed murmured.

Herger's boot hit him square in the back. Ahmed exclaimed and leaped to his feet, rubbing the spot and retreating from the bed. "You see?" he laughed, backing away. "I speak the truth and you kick me!"

Herger crossed his legs and sighed at the ceiling, but a smile played around his lips. Still chuckling, Ahmed went back to the library to write his father.


	15. Chapter 15

The happy, quiet atmosphere of Irene's home disappeared in the days after Thecla's disastrous coming-out party. Left in the wake was stress and tension. Slaves moved wincingly about the house in their duties in fear of Irene's shortened temper, and Ahmed soon found that his neck and shoulders ached constantly. More than once he begged out of a supper with Herger due to a headache, and Herger no longer woke him up for sex if Ahmed was asleep upon Herger's return.

Petros Adralestos visited the house frequently and took meetings with Irene. He was a comfort to her, when nothing Ahmed seemed to say was the right thing. Ahmed believed they were planning something regarding Thecla's impending betrothal, but they would not let him in on their discussions. When Irene demanded that Ahmed design a selection of wedding invitations for her to choose from, his heart sank, and not only in sympathy for Thecla.

He poured all of his creative energies into the designs, having no other distraction to give him solace. When he presented the final selection to Irene one week later, he had five separate cards with flawless calligraphy, brilliant miniature paintings, and Irene's wax seal decorated with gold leaf. She said little as she examined them and chose one, and then demanded one hundred copies. The date set for the ceremony was the first day of spring, one month away.

Ahmed worked day and night at a frantic pace to quickly deliver the work. Whereas once he would be asleep when Herger would arrive home, now he would still be hunched over his desk in the library when Herger went to bed.

After a week of this, Herger came into the library one evening and leaned over the desk. "Ahmed."

"Just a moment." Ahmed finished the calligraphy for the card he was working on, then wiped off his pen and straightened with a wince. "What is it?"

"Come with me tonight. You need to eat."

"I can eat here." Ahmed set the card on the pile to be painted and picked up a fresh one. Herger's hand came down on top of his pen, keeping Ahmed from picking it up.

"Please."

He couldn't remember Herger ever saying _please_ , so perhaps it was truly important to him. His hand was cramping, anyway. Ahmed nodded and pushed away from the desk.

Herger wanted to call for their horses, but Ahmed asked that they stay within walking distance. He did not want to have to walk Herger's horse across the city again, and he intended to go back to work after eating. They decided on a tavern a few blocks away.

Even on that short of a walk, Herger encountered a pair of his Varangian friends on their way to their own meal. When they heard where Herger was headed, they changed their plan and joined the group. Ahmed was discouraged. Surely now Herger would get drunk, and the short meal Ahmed had hoped for would not be possible. But he didn't have the heart to say anything, so he followed them quietly into the establishment.

They took a table and told the barmaid that they wanted food as well as ale. When she walked away after delivering their drinks, Herger clapped a hand on Ahmed's shoulder and turned to his friends.

"I would not have thought a scholar with his nose in a book could do as much work as one of us, but Eben has proved me wrong. His back is bent with strain for hours every day. I do not envy him his efforts. Let us raise a drink in his honor."

Ahmed stared as cups around the table were lifted. Herger's eyes smiled over the rim of his cup as he drank.

Their food soon arrived and the room got noisier. Ahmed ate quietly and watched the interaction between Herger and the others, a combination of friendly competition and easy conversation. More Varangians came in and circled the room, stopping by their table.

Two men, probably both under the age of twenty, were the youngest Varangians Ahmed had seen since Haltaf and the other boys in Jutland. They had been in the city longer than Ahmed and Herger and were part of the community of guards, but did not have the respect that Herger held for his age and accomplishments. They were upstarts, Ahmed realized, blustering for attention.

Ahmed looked at Herger to try and guage his reactions as the youths talked. He saw that Herger was staring at them, not blinking, a sly smile on his lips. His responses to their comments were more teasing than biting. When one of the boys brushed a hand through his hair to lift it away from his face, Ahmed saw Herger lick his lower lip. The blue gaze slipped downwards, scanning the boy's body.

Ahmed sighed and finished his bread. He turned his attention away from the conversation around him, but Herger's voice slipped into his ears.

"And this one. He refuses to lay a woman if I have not arranged it first. I am so tired of the effort that I think I will give up on him."

Ahmed looked up to see Herger watching him with a smirk. The Varangians around them burst into laughter.

"When you are gone so long during the day, how do you know what I do?" Ahmed murmured. The laughter quieted. "If I have not introduced you to my five sons, ask the maids to come in and show you their bellies."

The group erupted with more laughter, Varangians banging the table and disturbing the crockery to show their approval. Herger grinned and nodded approvingly.

The rest of the Northmen insisted on buying cider for Ahmed, since he would not drink wine or ale. No matter how much he insisted that he did not want to drink, a cup was put in front of him. He realized that not drinking it would offend them, and gave in before he made a table of enemies.

As a result, two hours later his head was buzzing. The Varangians thought it was amusing how he could not stop laughing at their jokes even after his grasp of their language failed. Eventually Herger got up and pulled on his robes to haul him to his feet, steadying him when he swayed off-balance. Ahmed blearily said goodnight to the table and followed Herger outside, concentrating hard on not running into any of the other patrons as he walked.

When they were back in their apartment, Herger pressed Ahmed down to the bed and bent to take off his shoes for him. Ahmed pulled off his clothes without regard for keeping them neat or hanging them up. When he was naked and his clothes were scattered about him, he rolled under the covers and watched Herger stand and undress.

"I should not be this drunk," he murmured to himself, vision spinning. He rolled onto his back and laughed, rubbing his hand on the fur throw over his chest. "I can see why it is unlawful for my people."

"It is only bad if it destroys your life, keeps you from being a man," Herger murmured. He slipped into bed and propped himself up on his side, watching Ahmed. "I will not let that happen."

Ahmed reached out, groping for Herger's free hand, and held it in a loose grip. He stroked two fingers over the inside of his wrist. "I remember what you said tonight."

Herger chuckled. "You will have to be more specific."

"About me, initiating what we do." Ahmed slurred his words a little, but Herger nodded in understanding. Ahmed released his wrist and pushed him onto his back, moving across the bed to straddle him.

Herger readily accepted his kiss, as sloppy as it was. Ahmed pressed the length of his body against Herger's and wriggled, enjoying the play of tongues and press of lips as he ground his pelvis. He was not hard and probably would not be, but what did it matter? He was happy making Herger feel good. And Herger was feeling good; he held Ahmed's head as they kissed, running his fingers into his hair.

It occurred to Ahmed that he had not made his point. He raised his head abruptly.

"I will initiate now," he said, staring at Herger's lips.

The lips parted in a grin. "I understand," Herger said.

Ahmed kissed the grin again, then his chin, then his neck. He worked his way down Herger's chest before getting distracted by his arms, with the lovely sleek muscles. When he had licked down to one elbow, he craned his head to look up at Herger's face.

"What does this mean?" he asked, pointing to the _FCE_ he had seen before.

" _Fortuna caeca est_."

Ahmed thought hard, translating. "Fortune is blind," he murmured.

Herger nodded. "Cicero."

Ahmed was surprised that Herger knew of Cicero, but then, few things about his lover were unremarkable. He kissed the letters and moved back to Herger's chest.

By the time he got down to Herger's belly, Herger was making encouraging sounds and shifting his hips. Ahmed took his cock in hand and felt the heat as it grew aroused. He moved his fingers over it delicately, examining the way the foreskin tightly wrapped the head, leaving only a small bit of the tip peeking out.

Ahmed's face was flushed, his skin hot. His insides trembled with nervous anticipation. He wanted to hear Herger cry out with pleasure the way he himself had done so many times. Without letting himself time to reconsider, he bent his head and took the shaft in his mouth.

Herger gave a small cry. The sound was obviously of pleasure, so Ahmed did not stop. He cushioned the staff with his tongue and sucked it deeper into his mouth, fascinated by the taste and textures.

"No teeth," Herger gasped.

Ahmed realized he had grazed him, and tried to loosen his jaws while maintaining the suction. This was difficult! But Herger sighed again and stroked Ahmed's curly head, so Ahmed continued. The shaft slowly hardened in Ahmed's mouth as he licked and sucked.

He let the shaft slide out of his mouth until just the head was between his lips, and concentrated his efforts there. The foreskin had slipped back behind the head, leaving a smooth, firm crown. Ahmed gently probed his tongue into every crease and crevice, listening to Herger's gasps and moans as he found the sensitive places. Soon pre-come began to seep from the small hole at the tip, adding to the lubrication.

He went back to sucking, taking as much of Herger's length into his mouth as he could handle without choking. He wrapped his fingers around the base of Herger's cock to touch the rest, squeezing the length. Herger moaned throatily and stroked a finger over Ahmed's cheek, feeling himself move in and out of Ahmed's mouth as he sucked. The touch was encouraging and Ahmed tried to speed up, moving his head up and down over Herger's lap, breathing heavily as his excitement grew.

Soon Ahmed felt Herger's cock swell and the balls nudge his hand. He continued sucking, feeling a surge of lust run through his body. He wanted Herger to spend in his mouth, to taste and swallow him.

Herger put a hand on his shoulder and shakily whispered his name, trying to get him to stop before it was too late. Ahmed reached out with his other hand, stroking up Herger's stomach and chest, relaying that he knew what was going to happen, and welcomed it. Herger groaned and curled his hips off the bed, pumping gently into Ahmed's mouth, his cock hard and big.

Finally Ahmed felt the spasms that traveled through Herger's body, releasing a rush of semen. Herger moaned as his body tightened and trembled. Ahmed swallowed hastily and felt another pulse land on his tongue. He kept swallowing and sucking gently, slowing when Herger's climax finished.

He felt Herger soften and a hand on his shoulder. Ahmed lifted his head, licking his lips and breathing hard. Herger pulled on his arm to bring him back up the bed, rolling onto his side as Ahmed settled. Ahmed found himself gently kissed, hands moving over his body. Herger slipped one hand down Ahmed's buttocks and between the cheeks, probing for his entrance with a dry finger. Ahmed shivered and pushed the hand away. He did not feel fear or anger, merely a lack of desire. There was no pleasure to be had that way.

A long time later, he pulled away from a kiss and looked at Herger. The oil lamp had run out of fuel and it was dark now in the room. Herger was stroking his back and buttocks in slow, sweeping strokes, meant to soothe and appreciate than arouse. He had not tried to touch Ahmed more intimately again.

"That was wonderful," Herger murmured, his voice soft. Ahmed smiled.

"I am happy you enjoyed it." There was an aftertaste in his mouth, but Ahmed did not mind. He laid his head on Herger's pillow and closed his eyes, weariness coming upon him quickly.

"Are you certain you would not..." Herger's hand moved over his hip to his groin, but felt that Ahmed was indeed soft. He made another sound. "Tomorrow then."

Ahmed nodded again, his nose bumping Herger's cheek. With another sleepy kiss, he succumbed to sleep.  


 

As busy as he was with work for Irene, Ahmed also kept his promise to Naila. He met with her in the city for tea dates, shedding some of his stress and tension with her engaging conversations and sweet manner. But at last she would not let him put off his visit any longer, and he went to her home for supper one night.

Naila did not eat with him, but served him food in a fine parlor appointed with floor pillows and low tables. They talked throughout the meal about mutual acquaintances in Baghdad, Naila's work with Irene, Ahmed's poetry, and a variety of other topics. The more familiar he became with Naila, the more Ahmed admired her. He had shed the puppy-love crush he'd had after their first meeting, but his affection for her personality and mind had easily replaced it.

When Naila gave him the bag of money from his father, Ahmed decided to probe her a little on that topic.

"I read his letter, as you know," he murmured, weighing the bag of coins in his palm as he reclined on some pillows. "And I was confused by some of his language. Did you know he thought of marriage?"

"With me, yes. We discussed it and decided it was not to be." Naila held a pet kitten in her lap, a small grey thing with large blue eyes. She stroked its head as she continued. "I believe he wants to play match-maker."

Ahmed smiled. "It would not be the first time. I have told you about my siblings, yes? My older brother and sister."

Naila nodded.

"Father was happy to see them both married, but he has always been disappointed that I refused to settle down. It was never enough that two children marry and start families. I was an embarrassment for not fathering more grandchildren for him. How ironic that the first woman I fell in love with led me to my downfall."

"You blame the woman?"

Ahmed realized his mistake, and blushed. "I blame myself. I still treasure the memory of her very much. She was a wonderful storyteller."

"As are you. I do enjoy listening to you talk."

Ahmed's skills with courting and flirtation were rusty with disuse, but slowly getting better. He flashed a charming smile. "It gives me pleasure to make you happy."

Naila cocked her head and turned her eyes down demurely. She picked up the kitten and set it aside, then rose to her feet. "It is late and I have taken you from your work long enough. Irene would not forgive me if those cards were not finished in time for the engagement ceremony."

Ahmed rose at her cue. "I came tonight because I am done with the first step, at last. Tomorrow I begin painting them."

"You must show me one of these cards. I cannot wait to receive one by delivery." The kitten ran ahead of them out of the room. Naila's house was much smaller than Irene's, and they soon reached the door.

Ahmed took her hand and kissed the back of it, smiling into her eyes as a servant opened the door. "I will have one sent tomorrow. Thank you for a wonderful evening."

"The pleasure was mine." They murmured goodbyes and parted.

Ahmed sighed as he walked home, raising his hand to his face and smelling her powder on his skin. He had something real with Herger, something frightening in its power and intensity, and utterly undeniable. But at the same time he was becoming more curious to know what he could have with Naila.  


 

Herger was in bed when Ahmed returned home, bent over something with the lamp lit. As Ahmed undressed, he could hear Herger softly practicing the Greek lessons. He realized as he turned and stripped off his tunic that Herger was reading from the book.

"Soon you will be my teacher in that as well," Ahmed murmured, interrupting Herger's work. The blond head lifted.

"We are equals, are we not?"

Ahmed smiled. "In some things." He loosened the drawstring of his pants and stepped out of them. "You have always treated me like your student. I do not mind."

"I may call you my little brother, but that refers to age only, not knowledge or experience."

Ahmed hesitated when he was stripped to his libas, then took them off as well. Herger's gaze ran over his body as he approached the bed.

"And yet you have taught me so much," Ahmed murmured. He touched a hand to his belly, stroking in small circles.

Herger watched his hand for a moment, then set the book aside and rolled onto his back, looking Ahmed in the face. "So she riles you up and you come back looking for relief."

Ahmed blew out the lamp and got onto the bed, bracing himself on his hands and knees above Herger. "You rile me up, Northman."

Herger pulled his head down for a passionate kiss.  


 

Ahmed could not dally in his work any longer; not until the cards were finished. It was for this reason that when Irene wanted Ahmed present at a meeting, she has his desk and tools moved to her reception room.

He was already set up and working when Irene went out to greet her guests. Soon she came back into the room, not looking at Ahmed as she turned to the door behind her.

Petros Adralestos entered, followed by several more people Ahmed did not recognize. He watched them all, then went back to his inks and brushes when they took their seats.

For a while he didn't pay much attention to the conversation, but eventually his work became automatic and the voices reached his ears.

From what he could gather, the strangers were all members of the emperor's court--the emperor in power. More than one man had claim to the throne. There was Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus, a youth who was emperor only in name. Romanus Lecapenus ruled as regent, and held all of the power. His daughter Helena was married to Constantine, and it was shortly after their wedding that Romanus had taken power. As Irene had told Ahmed at the hippodrome, Romanus was supported by and of the Prasinoi, or Greens.

And from what Ahmed could tell, most of Irene's guests were Prasinoi as well.

"I have come to you this day with a message from my father," one young woman said. Irene and everyone else became quiet and gave her their full attention.

"Swear your allegiance to us, and you will have the emperor's protection," she finished.

Irene smiled, though Ahmed could tell that the expression was strained. "My nephew is also a Prasinoi. What guarantee do I have that my allegiance will be honored?"

"My husband and father want only peace in the city. If Basil disturbs it, it will be his undoing, not yours."

Ahmed realized at that moment that Irene's guest was, in fact, Helena.

"Some comfort," Irene murmured. Adralestos reached over and patted her hand.

Ahmed understood her trepidation, but he also knew that Herger alone could not protect an entire family against the Prasinoi. God knew how many Prasinoi Basil could muster for his cause.

"I have little choice, so I will accept your offer," Irene continued to Helena. Helena sat back with a nod. Several of the other court people leaned over to Irene to murmur things to her; Ahmed couldn't tell what they said.

"I will make the announcement at court this afternoon," Adralestos said to Irene, in a voice that did carry to Ahmed.

"And I will vouch for you," Helena said. "I know you are busy with your daughter's wedding, but I would like you to come to one of my parties. I am having one this week. It would look good if you did attend."

"I understand," Irene agreed.

Helena stood to leave, her entourage springing to their feet to follow. With a nod to Ahmed, Irene led the group out.


	16. Chapter 16

There was a great deal of turmoil and upheaval following Irene's decision to join the Prasinoi. Dozens of people visited the house; some Prasinoi, inquisitive about the new person in their midst; some Venetii, wondering why Irene had abandoned them.

After a few days, Irene went to the palace for Helena's party. Ahmed opted out, using work as his excuse. While he continued on in his library, the drama spun itself out around him.

Having his own experiences in court life to draw from, Ahmed knew full well why the emperor had extended an offer of protection to Irene. The court undoubtedly wanted to meld the two troublesome factions of Irene and her nephew by Thecla's marriage to Basil's associate. Further, the emperor's prestige was increased still more by Irene's name and social standing as a successful business woman and member of an elite family line. It was an offer that benefitted everyone; a man of Romanus's standing would consider nothing less.

All the drama reminded Ahmed too much of Baghdad, but to his surprise, he was more homesick than ever. He poured himself into finishing his work in time for the wedding, and begged out of associations with Naila until he had more time. Rebuking her, even gently, made him feel worse than he would have anticipated.

Herger was no more pleased with Ahmed's lack of free time than Naila was. Their relationship entered another period of plummeting desires and quick, dissatisfying couplings. By the time Herger would give him his pleasure, Ahmed was too tired to fret over the quality of it. He fell asleep far too late each night and rose far too early each morning.

But within a week, Ahmed was finished with the painting part of the cards. He recruited a slave to help him fold and seal the invitations with Irene's signet, and the work finished quickly. Finally, he sent them out to be delivered, two weeks before the engagement.

Irene immediately ordered him out of the house for fresh air and exercise. He invited Naila to see the covered bazaar with him, the shopping district near the Forum of Constantine.

Of course she was well familiar with the bazaar, from her work for Irene. She introduced him personally to all of the Arabic merchants, and they were treated to a host of delicious foods and offers of gifts. Ahmed discovered a beautiful saber while he was out. The grip was one piece of carved jade, while the quillon, blade, and scabbard were all heavily jeweled and decorated with finely tooled gold. He desperately wanted to buy it for Herger, but he couldn't afford the cost.

As he continued through the bazaar with Naila, he felt guilty for being in her presence and thinking of his lover. Naila seemed intent on forming some kind of relationship with Ahmed, while he repeatedly avoided commitment and stayed with Herger. What was more, Herger did not appreciate Naila's presence in Ahmed's life. He wasn't being fair to either of them.

But he needed Naila's friendship so much, he thought to himself as he watched her smell flowers for freshness and buy a bundle of early spring blossoms. She was a connection to an ideal he had been raised to seek; an intelligent and beautiful reminder of all he had ever desired from life. He thought he wanted what she represented, but would he be happy when he had it?

He never would have thought he would be in such a situation as he was with Herger, he mused as he walked Naila home. Surely it could not last. His fits of depression had some measure of truth to them--he and Herger could not live the rest of their lives as they were now. Men simply did not do it. Herger was too set in his ways, too. He would eventually want to leave Constantinople and move on with his life, and most likely Ahmed would not go with him.

It would be prudent of him to plan for the future, he thought as he looked upon Naila in the late winter sunlight. He felt enough affection for her to ask for her hand in marriage, when the time was right.

He bade her a good afternoon with a bow, and waited until she had closed her door before going back to his own apartment.

  


When he returned, he found Herger waiting in the foyer with his weapons on. He greeted Ahmed with a cheerful grin.

"No longer chained to your desk?"

"I am finished with my work," he answered proudly, feeling completely relaxed for the first time in weeks. "Irene ordered me to leave the apartment."

"I am not so free of my duties," Herger said regretfully. "She wants to go somewhere, I have no idea where or for how long."

"Such is life."

Irene came down the stairs at that moment, prompting a slave to open the main door. Herger nodded at her before turning to Ahmed.

"I want to see you tonight," he said in a low voice. "Perhaps we should stay in."

Ahmed's heart began to race. He was embarrassed at how quickly his body reacted to such a simple statement, especially after he had been thinking of becoming more acquainted with Naila. "I would like that," he managed, unable to withhold a smile.

Herger grinned and gripped his forearm in goodbye, following Irene outside.

Irene had only been gone for a few minutes when Ahmed heard her being asked for. He went to the door and found Petros Adralestos there, fervently asking the servant to take him to Irene.

"Pardon me," Ahmed interrupted, going to the door, "But she is truly away at the moment. I just saw her go out with her guard."

"I need to get a message to her and I cannot wait," Adralestos said urgently. "Can I tell you?"

Ahmed touched the slave's arm, urging him to open the door and allow Adralestos inside. "Of course. Please come in."

They went to the library, where Adralestos took Ahmed's seat without hesitation and ran his hands through his hair. Ahmed had never seen the man look so upset and unsettled. He leaned against his desk and tried to catch Adralestos's eye.

"What is the matter? Please, speak freely. I do have Irene's confidence in some things."

Adralestos smiled humorlessly. "It is her hearing this that I dread, but I cannot keep it from her.

"Today I was at the bathhouse and saw Basil Maniaces there. He started provoking me about the wedding. He said that his friend, the groom, always depends on him for business advice, and that soon he will have Irene's businesses at the level they should always have been--in his mind, of course. He called her ‘that mere woman,' something he has been saying for years, and he knows it angers me every time. I confess that I lost my temper. I told him I would do everything in my power to stop the marriage, including going to the emperor and Patriarch Nikolas -- the head of the church," he explained when Ahmed looked confused.

"How was this the wrong thing to do?" Perhaps Ahmed was missing some insight into Basil's character that would make a difference in interpreting the argument.

"I did not think of Irene when I made this threat. Thecla has no other options, you understand. If Basil contests the engagement or if my foolishness has ruined her chances, she will never be able to marry anyone. I should have kept my mouth shut," he finished, speaking to himself, face mottled with anger.

"I understand now," Ahmed said, trying to sound soothing. "Reparations will have to be made, but I think that you should not make them yourself without someone else to calm the waters. Leave it to Irene to make the decision of what course to take. I will deliver this news to her when she returns."

Adralestos shook his head. "I should tell her myself, although I will hate doing so. Telling you has eased my mind a little, but it does not relieve me of my duty. Will she be back soon?"

"I cannot say. Please, try to calm yourself." Ahmed stood, going to the windows and opening them to let in sunlight and fresh air. "Allow me to have some tea brought. You are welcome to wait here until she returns."

Adralestos nodded distractedly, staring into space as Ahmed finished with the windows. He excused himself to call a servant for tea, and set up some pillows and stools in the library for when Irene would arrive home.

Fortunately for Adralestos's peace of mind, Irene returned within the hour. Ahmed had her brought to the library and served tea while she and Herger listened to Adralestos's account of his bathhouse argument.

At last Adralestos put down his untouched tea and reached for his friend's hands, gripping them tightly as he looked into her eyes. "Irene, you know how much I love you and your family. Please know that I would never--"

Irene smiled and shook her head. "Please, Petros. You do not need to say anything. This argument was unfortunate, but I do not blame you. Our patience will be tried many times by the end of this wedding. We can only pray for good luck and god's speed now."  


 

Despite Irene's worries and the increasing tension between she and Basil, the remaining two weeks passed quickly. Irene met with Basil privately to apologize on Adralestos's behalf, and whatever she said managed to smooth over the hard feelings.

On the first day of spring, Ahmed, Herger, Irene, Adralestos, and a large group of Irene's friends gathered outside the Hagia Sophia cathedral.

The engagement ceremony was held outside the doors of the church. It was a financial transaction, where each party described the bride's dowry and the cost of the marriage for the groom. The conversation between the two groups lasted for over an hour, during which time Irene, Adralestos, and Basil described exactly what the bride and groom would bring to the deal. The groom would certainly not dispute the dowry price given the scandal, but Irene wanted something respectable for her daughter, to lessen the blow to her honor and reputation.

It was only now that Ahmed and Herger formally met the groom, one of Basil's close friends. Panterius Euphorbenus was a soldier in the emperor's army, a man around the age of twenty-five. His family bloodlines were respectable, but he had no living relatives or status to speak of. Despite his poor prospects, he was extraordinarily handsome, in the prime of his life. He had dark glossy hair and a strong jaw. He stood taller than Ahmed and several stones heavier with muscle. Seeing him again, Ahmed now understood how Thecla had been lured away from her own party.

Thecla herself wore white silk embroidered with gold and silver threads, as well as semiprecious stones. While she looked beautiful, tears dripped down her forlorn face.

Panterius gave Thecla a ring according to custom, and she had one for him. Basil had insisted on the second ring, although not every groom wore one. It was simply another sign of the Prasinoi men's success with the marriage.

After the rings were exchanged, the engagement contract was signed with the crowd as witnesses.

To Ahmed's surprise, Irene and Thecla turned away from the church after the signing of the document.

"What is going on?" he asked as the crowd dispersed.

"Now we wait eight weeks."

"Eight weeks?" Ahmed was aghast. After all that rushing and work...

"The bans are posted on the church doors. Anyone contesting the marriage has that time to do so in writing. If there is no reason to stop the marriage, then it will take place."

That was understandable, but what an anti-climatic event! Ahmed and Herger exchanged weary looks and walked back to the house behind Irene and her daughter.  


 

While Ahmed's work was done, Herger's was just starting. Over the following weeks he guarded Irene and Thecla on their travels all over the city, from wedding garment fittings to florists to the bathhouse, where he was forced to wait on the street since men were not allowed into the women's building.

Because of Herger's workload, Ahmed rarely saw him until the evening. They began to make a habit of going out and finding a group of Varangians to share a meal with, if only to get away from Irene's world for a few hours. While Ahmed was comfortable with the luxurious life of the noble class, he found that he could more easily unwind from a day while in the company of men.

He would not have guessed that of himself, given that none of the Varangians spoke multiple languages or loved poetry. He had changed so much in the time since leaving his homeland.

When Herger was gone with Irene during the day, Ahmed took long, brisk rides with Asiya around the city for exercise, and sought out some of the city's renowned culture, such as the emperor's public works of art and touring thespian bands. The remaining time before the wedding passed relatively slowly and leisurely for Ahmed, in comparison to the frenzy of the month prior to the engagement.

Eight weeks later, a priest led Thecla and Panterius into the cathedral, walking them down a white carpet while they carried lit candles. Thecla kept her head bowed, sniffling quietly as she walked beside her betrothed.

Ahmed and Herger watched the ceremony from an antechamber. Ahmed did not feel comfortable sitting with the wedding party inside the church when he did not believe in their faith, and Herger preferred to avoid such activities for his own reasons. Ahmed privately believed that Herger only wanted to stay close to him, especially with Naila in attendance.

Because Irene was Greek, she had requested that the ceremony adhere to her beliefs. Icons were displayed on the tetrapod and iconostas, and were decorated with an abundance of flowers. A crown of verbena--symbolizing fertility--was placed on Thecla's head. Panterius received a crown of flowers from Basil, his best man, or Koumbaro. The crowns were switched between the bride and groom three times, and together symbolized a kingdom of heaven on earth, linked to each other by a white silk ribbon. Many of the rituals were repeated three times, to symbolize the Trinity of God that the church believed in. There was also the rite of communion, during which the bride and groom drank out of a gold-plated cup. Incense clouded the air, giving an air of mystery suitable for the holy union.

Although he did not take part, Ahmed was interested in watching the wedding. Herger watched Irene and her part of the audience, concerned more with her safety than with the activities.

At last the priest finished the mass by leading the couple around the altar three times, giving them a final blessing, and then presenting them to the congregants as man and wife. Thecla had stopped crying, but her face was pale and blank with a stunned expression. Panterius did not even look at his bride, but accepted congratulations from Basil and his other friends.

Irene went to her daughter and hugged her tightly, stroking her hair and murmuring softly in her ear. Thecla was mollified by this and managed a smile for her mother, then began to receive kisses and kind words from family and friends.

With the ceremony finished, the group returned to Irene's house for the reception. Ahmed soon lost Herger in the crowd of Irene's friends, but he spotted Naila and sought her out.

"It is too crowded," Naila commented with a smile when he stepped up to her and said hello. "Shall we take a plate and find a quiet spot?"

"I would like that very much." Ahmed offered his arm and led the way to the banquet table, fixing a plate of fruit and cakes for them to share. He then took her to the courtyard outside his rooms, knowing that they would certainly not be disturbed.

"I am so relieved this is finally over," Naila said as she sat down on the stone bench. "Irene has been out of sorts for months on end."

"You do not need to tell me," Ahmed said with a pained smile, putting the plate between them. "Happily she has not given me another assignment like those invitations, but the rapport we had is gone now."

"I assure you it will return. This has not been an easy year, you understand." Naila took some grapes and ate them slowly, keeping her veil on. She did not normally eat in front of him, but such small finger foods were easier to take with the hijab.

"May the summer bear her fruits of success," he replied, lifting his cup of water.

"I am certain they will." Ahmed gave Naila a quizzical look as he drank, prompting her to elaborate. "In a few days I must return to Baghdad with the next caravan. She has a great shipment ready to return to Constantinople."

"Then you will not be gone long," he said with hope. He saw the tentative curve of her lips through the gauzy fabric of her veil, and an accompanying shrug of her shoulders.

"One month, perhaps? It may take a week while the camels are unloaded and loaded again. I have personal business there, too. With the length of travel and these uncertain times..." She shrugged again.

He knew when she talked about the "uncertain times" she meant marauding bands of Turks, Tartars, and other peoples who preyed on caravans. But what personal business she had in Baghdad, he did not know. Still, he estimated that he would not see her again for months. The thought was jarring; his future was still relatively uncertain, and if he wanted to pursue a relationship with her it meant either going with her to Baghdad or waiting for her to return.

Making the trip to Baghdad seemed like a promising idea. He still desperately missed his home at times, even though Herger did not seem to want to go there.

"You could come with us," Naila said softly, breaking into Ahmed's thoughts.

He gave her a smile, taking one of the tiny cakes off the plate. "Thank you. I will consider your offer."

A half hour later they were still talking and eating when Herger came out of the bedroom. He stopped a few steps into the courtyard, looking at Naila.

"I did not realize you had company," he said to Ahmed, but not looking at him. Instead he kept his gaze fixed aggressively on Naila.

Ahmed took another sip of water. "We wanted a quiet place to talk. Have you been looking for me?"

"Of course not. I simply could not stand any more of that pompous fuck." Herger approached the bench and took a cake off their plate.

Naila cleared her throat quietly while Ahmed's face burned in embarrassment at Herger's language. He decided not to make anything of it and make the situation even more awkward.

"Of whom are you speaking?"

"Basil, and his bitch. The groom," Herger elaborated before taking a drink out of his horn.

"What are they doing?"

Herger turned to go back inside. "See for yourself," he said over his shoulder.

Ahmed stood and offered his hand to Naila. "Now I am curious. We should not be out here alone, in any case."

Naila nodded and stood, leading the way into the house.

In the ballroom, Panterius was sitting between his wife and his mother-in-law. Basil was on the other side of Irene. Thecla still looked scared witless and Irene's expression showed strain, but neither had broken down into tears. Ahmed wondered for a moment what Herger had been talking about.

Then he listened for a moment to what Panterius was saying to the crowd.

He was drunkenly suggesting that when Irene ran out of wine, all the men should leave for the nearest taverns and continue their revelry, leaving their women behind. He further remarked that barmaids would make much better bed companions, and that he deserved a wedding night of passion rather than wrestling with a child.

"I will not even sleep here!" he yelled, waving a goblet around. "I have my own quarters! God has saved me from being shackled to a brat for at least a few more years."

"That is only because you are too poor to buy your bride a home of her own!" That was Petros Adralestos, shouting back at Panterius from the shocked and embarrassed assemblage of guests.

"What does she need a home for? To play with her toys in private?" Panterius laughed and slurped messily from his cup. Basil chuckled along with him.

"Have some more wine, Panterius," Irene said. She sounded exhausted.

Ahmed stepped out of the crowd. Obviously Irene wanted to get her new son-in-law so drunk that he would become incapacitated, but Ahmed could not watch any more of this grotesque display. He knelt in front of the groom's chair, hand on the grip of his dagger where it was tucked into the waist of his garment.

"May I honor my lord with a tour of this house?"

Panterius narrowed his eyes at Ahmed. He looked much uglier with his face red from drink. "What for?"

Ahmed lowered his voice. "Someday this may all be yours. Would not today be the right time to claim it?"

Panterius stood, pushing his goblet into Thecla's lap, letting her fumble to keep it from spilling all over her beautiful garments. He spoke to Ahmed as if he were a slave, brusquely and without eye contact. "Lead on, then."

Ahmed stood and turned, catching Naila's eye. He winked reassuringly and started out of the ballroom, feeling a little embarrassed when the crowd gave him and Panterius plenty of space. Herger fell into step with him, ushering Panterius through the doors.

They led him to a guest room, not letting him take a good look at the rooms and halls they passed through--not that he was very interested, anyway. Ahmed stepped up to a narrow bed, practically a cot, but one that was piled with blankets and pillows.

"Try this and see if it is to your liking, lord."

Herger's eyes glimmered with mischief.

Ahmed waited until Panterius sat, then picked up his feet and helped him stretch out. Panterius sighed and closed his eyes. "Comfortable."

"Take a moment to enjoy it."

After just a minute, a snore came from Panterius's mouth. Herger smothered a chuckle.

"I hope I do not act like this when I have this much drink in me."

Ahmed stood and faced his lover. "You are amorous, especially if there is no one else around."

"That much I knew. But how I talk..." Herger shrugged, obviously not very concerned.

The snoring paused. Ahmed put a finger to his lips and waited to make sure Panterius was still asleep, then gestured to the door.

They returned to the ballroom to find that the tension had eased and guests were enjoying themselves again. Irene gave Ahmed a grateful smile, and Naila nodded to convey that she was impressed. Behind him, Ahmed felt Herger's hand on his shoulder in an obvious message.

"Later," he murmured over his shoulder, and went to a pillow by Irene.

Basil was still in his seat, and narrowed his eyes at Ahmed as he approached. "What did you do with him?"

"He was tired, my lord, and is resting in one of the guest rooms. A slave can check on him, if you like."

Basil said nothing, although he continued to watch Ahmed with a sour expression.

Later Adralestos came through the crowd. He held a goblet of his own and was sweating with the heat of the room, or perhaps because drink had flushed his skin. He stepped onto the dais where the bride, groom, and other honorable guests were sitting. Basil started to stand, but Adralestos pushed him back onto his seat.

"You have what you wanted; your man is married to Thecla, and now he is in your debt. You will suck no more life from your aunt while I am still alive. If I see you in this house after today, you will have to be carried out of it."

"Petros, do not do this," Irene said pleadingly. For once, he ignored her. Ahmed stood and put a hand on his arm, trying to pry his attention from Basil.

Basil merely stared back at him, his face unflinching and blank. For a long moment he and Adralestos stared at each other, neither man giving an inch, until Basil leaned back and spoke.

"You will not see me in this house after today," he said in a flat voice.

Ahmed thought his statement was strange, but Adralestos was satisfied with it. He nodded and backed down from the dais, finally acknowledging Irene's distress.

Although he did not know Adralestos very well, it was simply because of his lack of emotional ties that Ahmed was vital to Irene in keeping the peace. He understood this. He gripped Adralestos's arm more tightly and led him toward the food and drink, pouring a large amount of water for him.

"I do mean it," Adralestos muttered, looking over his shoulder at Basil. His white hair was limp with sweat and he was breathing heavily.

"That you would kill him?" Ahmed guessed.

Adralestos nodded. "I am underestimated because I am a eunuch, you understand," he continued, looking back at Ahmed. "But Basil will see how badly he has miscalculated. I am more formidable than I appear."

"Be that as it may, this is a day for celebration. Anger and vengeance does not belong here."

Gulping down his goblet of water, Adralestos nodded distractedly and walked away, quickly getting lost in the crowd. Ahmed decided not to go after him; he would probably be more useful to Irene stationed on the dais, and Herger was assigned to the main doors of the room. They were in key positions for preventing any violence.

To Ahmed's relief, the party ended with no further incidences. Ahmed stood with Irene and Thecla at the front doors, saying goodbye to the guests as they trickled out of the house.

When Naila al-Zarqa' approached, Ahmed held out his hands to take hers, and clasped them firmly. "Safe travels, my lady."

"Then you will not come with us?"

Ahmed realized his error. "I meant in your return home tonight. I had not decided on your offer."

Naila smiled and squeezed his fingers. "I will pray for your acceptance of it." She released his hands and hugged Irene gently, murmuring something in her ear. Irene smiled, the expression free of tension for the first time in months. She nodded and brushed a kiss against Naila's cheek.

"Goodbye, my friend. I do not know what I will do without you while you are gone," she said as they drew apart.

With a final nod, Naila stepped outside. The night wind made her silk pants and tunic ripple against her body as she walked away.

Ahmed realized a guest had been waiting for his attention while he had been watching Naila move out of sight. He blinked and put a smile on his face, a greeting automatically coming to his lips.  


 

When every guest was gone, Irene bade Ahmed a good night and went to Thecla's room. Ahmed had discovered that the girl would continue living with her mother since Panterius had no suitable house for her. But at 15 years of age, if Panterius had managed to obtain some property, Thecla would begin living with her husband. This gave her three more years to learn how to be a wife and mother, manage a household and take care of her husband. While it was a relief that she would get such a grace period, Ahmed did not envy her new life. Panterius's behavior at the wedding did not indicate good manners or breeding.

With the household settling in for the night, Ahmed returned to his rooms. Herger was not there, but it was not likely that he had left the house without telling Ahmed. Ahmed washed his face and undressed, climbing into bed with a book.

Herger came in shortly thereafter, bearing his mead horn and a plate of food. He handed the items to Ahmed while he undressed, then got into bed next to Ahmed while Ahmed put the plate between them.

"That was quite a performance you gave today," he murmured, taking a sip from his brimming horn.

Ahmed put his book down and shrugged, fixing some sliced meat on a hunk of bread. "Court life is about saying what needs to be said, and not about meaning it."

"So I gathered." Herger watched him as he continued to drink and talk. "It's a good thing you were there. I would have killed him if he'd said anything more."

Ahmed grinned at this revelation. "What for? He was just a blathering drunk."

"He is an ass and a fool. I despise fools."

Not precisely; Ahmed thought to himself. Herger despised anyone who insulted or distressed Irene. He decided not to press him for that admission, and instead nodded in agreement as he chewed.

"But you are not a fool," Herger added. He drained his horn and put it aside, then ate one of the little honey cakes on the plate.

"So you do not despise me."

Herger shook his head as he ate.

"I am glad of your high opinion," Ahmed laughed.

They ate a few more tidbits before Herger spoke up again. "What was it that you and that woman were discussing out here?"

Ahmed hesitated, unsure of how to broach the subject. But his pause made Herger wary, and Ahmed decided to simply be honest and forthright. "Naila invited me to go to Baghdad with her and Irene's next caravan."

Herger didn't say anything for a moment, appearing to absorb the information as he ate. Eventually he cocked his head and looked down at the remains of their food, looking suspiciously calm. "All right."

"I have not decided to go or not, because you are here with me. Unless, perhaps, you could come along."

Herger snorted and moved the plate to the floor, then slid down under the blankets and shut his eyes. "I doubt she would like that; having to share you."

"Then I will not go."

"The purpose of this entire voyage was for you to return to your homeland, was it not? Why stop now?"

"Herger..."

Herger rolled over, his back to Ahmed.

Ahmed chewed on his lip and looked at Herger's head for a while, trying to decide what to do. Finally he put out the lamp and lay down, knowing that nothing he could say right now would make a difference.


	17. Chapter 17

The morning after the wedding, Ahmed wrote a letter to Naila al-Zarqa' telling her he accepted her invitation to join the caravan. With a heavy heart, he sent it off with a slave boy to be delivered.

Herger had left the house early after Ahmed had already risen, and by midmorning he had not returned. They had said nothing to each other; Herger was still too prickly for Ahmed to find the right words to apologize or make amends.

With the letter sent, he had nothing to do, and paced the library for a while. Books could not hold his interest, and there was nothing else demanding his attention; no need to reorganize the library, nothing of his possessions to clean or sort. Living in the lap of luxury had its bright moments until the inhabitants were bored and restless.

Finally he decided to take Asiya out for a ride. He quickly dressed for riding and had a slave prepare his mount.

As he rode out onto the streets, he realized he felt no more comfortable in the open air. There were low-hanging gray clouds on this day, and the late spring air was heavy. It was not even that Ahmed felt overly warm--there was a stiff breeze coming in off the sea--but, he realized, there was a sense of foreboding to everything. Even a farmer trying to sell chickens in the street seemed sinister.

Ahmed made his way away from the crowds and spurred Asiya to ride faster, giving her some exercise she desperately needed. They rode along the Theodosian wall protecting the city, passing back and forth like a captive tiger pacing his cage. He had chosen the location to avoid crowds and have a long open space to run.

When they were both breathing hard and sweating, Ahmed turned back toward Irene's home, with an idea to groom Asiya himself and then go to the bathhouse.

Ahmed put some water in a trough to help Asiya cool down, but not enough to hurt her stomach. As she drank he used a rag and a bucket of water to wipe down her coat, washing away the sweat and dust from the ride. A trickle of water ran close to her left eye as he squeezed water into her mane, at which she shook her head and snorted at him.

"My apologies," he whispered in Arabic, wiping her nose.

She lifted her head, having enough of the water. To distract her, he put a little hay in the feed box and began picking her hooves. She calmed more as he worked. The simple chores soothed him as much as they did Asiya.

A slave boy ran into the stable and said something urgent in Greek to another slave. Ahmed's Greek was no match for the boy's fast tongue; he could only grasp a vague meaning of "come now" from the message. Ahmed watched the other boy drop a pitchfork full of hay and run out.

Dread crept up Ahmed's spine. He finished grooming Asiya, put a bit more feed in the box for her, and went to her head, stroking her nose and ears as she looked at him. "See you soon, my precious," he murmured, and kissed her neck. She continued munching her food as he walked out of the stable with quick steps.

When he entered the house, he could hear a commotion from the wing where Irene had her rooms. He flew up the stairs taking two at a time, and ran down the hall toward the sound of voices. He came to Irene's bedroom door just as he heard Herger shout, "Bring me water, dammit!"

Irene was on the bed, her body curled in on itself like a baby. Herger bent over her protectively, covering her face from Ahmed's view, although he saw Irene's hands clutching at his shirt.

Ahmed stepped inside and realized that underneath the panicked chatter of slave boys trying to serve their mistress, there were muffled sobs coming from the bed.

Herger looked over his shoulder at Ahmed.

Ahmed shed his outer robe and went to the washbasin, wetting a cloth. He sent one boy for water and another boy for the strongest fermented drink they had in the kitchens. He took the cloth to Herger, then found a fur to cover Irene's body as Herger pressed the cloth to her brow.

She had her eyes squeezed shut, hot tears leaking onto her red cheeks. The sobs had quieted, but only because Irene was biting her lip to hold them back. Her body shook with the forces of her distress.

"What has happened?" Ahmed whispered.

Herger started to respond when one of the boys came back with water in a pitcher and a cup. Herger took the cup and pressed it to Irene's lips, pressing his hand to her hair and face in an attempt to soothe. Ahmed sat beside him and stroked Irene's back through the fur, moving his hand in slow sweeping circles, hesitant to touch the woman who before had seemed so untouchable.

Irene took a little water before pushing the cup away and turning her head toward the bed covers. The second slave boy came in with deeply colored wine and gave the cup to Ahmed.

He tasted it to see what the boy had brought him, and nearly spit the mouthful out. It was fermented grapes, indeed, but much stronger than regular wine as he frequently smelled it, and had some other flavor. He handed the cup to Herger, nodding as he fought a grimace at the force of the drink. It was something the Greeks favored, called retsina, and had pine resin mixed in from the barrels.

Herger turned Irene's face and urged the drink on her, murmuring nonsense in Latin, not giving up until she had taken several sips. Finally she turned her head away and nodded, collecting herself. "Please let me be. Just for a while," she said in a wrecked voice.

Herger accepted this and stood, handing the cups to one of the boys. Ahmed followed Herger to the doors.

"What is it? What has happened?" he asked as he closed the doors on the room.

"I took Irene to Adralestos's house. We found him in his bed. His throat had been slit and his eyes gouged out."

Ahmed felt bile rise in his throat as the images of a blood-soaked bed and a defiled body filled his mind. "She saw this?" he whispered hoarsely.

Herger nodded. They stopped there in the hall, Ahmed leaning against the wall as he let the horrible implications of Adralestos's death run through his mind. Adralestos was Irene's closest friend, her confidant and advisor. Losing him was like losing one of her children, or, more appropriately, a beloved elder.

"It was Basil," Ahmed said after a few minutes of being lost in his thoughts. "He said Adralestos would not see him in this house again."

"I did not hear him say this, but I agree with you."

"It was odd, how he had said it," Ahmed muttered to himself. "He was repeating Adralestos's words back to him. I should have suspected something."

Herger said nothing, which meant he thought the murder had been unavoidable even if Ahmed had realized a plot.

"I do not know what to do," Ahmed continued. "Do we alert the emperor? The captain of his guards?"

"I know men in the Imperial Guard," Herger answered. "It must be done. She should not have to do it."

"You go," Ahmed urged. "I will stay with her."

Herger nodded and they got back up with renewed intent. Herger left immediately while Ahmed went to his rooms and changed out of the clothes that smelled of sweat and horse.

One of the slave boys was stationed at Irene's door when he returned there. The boy shook his head when Ahmed approached, and said, "No one enters."

Ahmed nodded. "Then I will wait in her reception room. Fetch me immediately when she rises."

The boy nodded, then called "Master!" as Ahmed turned. When he looked back, the boy was pulling Ahmed's robe from under his seat. "You left this."

Ahmed nodded and took it, balling it in his fists as he went to wait for Irene.  


 

Herger returned after being away for more than an hour. His movements were jerky with tension as he walked into the reception room and drank the cup of retsina he had given Irene earlier. When he had gulped it down and taken a breath, he sat by Ahmed on a floor pillow.

"The emperor has ordered an investigation, but there was no one I could tell about our suspicions."

"Irene may be able to help us with that, when she is feeling better."

Herger nodded distractedly. As he did so, they both heard soft footsteps in the hall. Ahmed stood quickly, moving toward the doors.

Naila al-Zarqa' was there, being trailed by one of the slaves. She held out her hands to Ahmed as she approached, greeting him softly.

"I have heard the news about Petros Adralestos, and come to offer my support to Irene."

"We have been waiting for her," Ahmed said. He stopped when Naila pressed closer, putting her cheek to his shoulder and squeezing his arms in a brief, chaste hug. He could hear her breathing, shallow and unsteady, probably from shock. "Madam," he whispered, backing up a step and taking her arm.

He was painfully aware of Herger watching them, and felt uncomfortable with her touching him so intimately. "Please come in and sit. You are not well."

"Just alarmed by this," Naila murmured. She walked past Herger and sat on a floor pillow, wrapping an arm around her knee. Ahmed sat with her while Herger remained standing.

"We would like to alert the emperor to the fact that Basil may be to blame for this," Ahmed said softly, trying to ease into the subject. "Herger here tried to spread the word, but with no result. Can you help us?"

"Of course, as much as I am able." Naila reached out and put a hand on Ahmed's arm. "I fear these events may put off the trip, but I do want you to know that I was happy to receive your letter this morning."

Ahmed shifted, uncomfortable. "Perhaps we can talk about this later," he said, lowering his voice.

Naila glanced at Herger, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching them. "Because of your servant?" she asked, switching into Arabic.

Ahmed hesitated, not wanting to correct Naila, but anxious about revealing his relationship with Herger at the same time.

"I understand," Naila said. She gazed warmly at him and patted his arm.

An older slave boy came into the room and looked at Naila. "Madam would like to see you," he said.  


 

Ahmed and Herger continued to wait while Naila was in Irene's bedroom. With another woman in their confidence, there was little reason for either of the men to go into Irene's private chambers. They were left to their own devices for as long as Irene stayed sequestered.

By mutual unspoken decision, they returned to their apartment. Ahmed sat in the library and stared out the window. He had no task to perform, though even if he had, he would have been distracted by thoughts of Adralestos. With Constantinople life so refined and easy, it shocked Ahmed that Adralestos had been so brutally murdered. He might not have been surprised by such a thing happening in the wilds of Rus, but this was one of the greatest civilized cities in the world.

They were waiting in horrible limbo, powerless to do anything to help Irene or seek justice for Adralestos. Ahmed could hear Herger in the main room, jostling around like a dead leaf in the wind. He did not go out there, not having anything to say.

Eventually Ahmed went to the kitchen to have a meal prepared for himself and Herger. He returned with the tray himself, and they ate in relative silence.

Finally Herger leaned back with a cup of wine. "You sent that woman a letter?"

Ahmed sighed. From one hornet's nest to another. " _That woman's_ name is Madam al-Zarqa'."

"Answer my question."

Ahmed toyed with a bunch of grapes for a moment, then tossed them back onto the plate. "I did send her a letter. I suppose now you would like to know what was in it."

Confronted, Herger lost his bluster, as Ahmed had bargained he would. He huffed disgustedly and tossed back the rest of his wine.

Shortly thereafter a slave came to fetch them. Naila was leaving the house. Ahmed saw her to the front door, with Herger trailing out of curiosity.

Naila wrapped a heavy robe around herself, preparing to go out. In the time since Ahmed had arrived back home with Asiya, a storm had moved in with cold winds and rain.

"Irene asks that you come with me to the emperor's court tomorrow," Naila said, adjusting her head covering. "She will not attend so she expects you and I to both be there on her behalf."

"Gladly."

"I will be there as well," Herger spoke up from behind Ahmed.

Ahmed turned slightly to acknowledge him with a pang of guilt. He was treating Herger just as Naila was; as if Herger were a slave, not fit to be seen in public with them.

Naila looked at Herger, obviously surprised to hear him butting into the conversation. She did not respond, but gave Ahmed another warm look before turning to leave.  


 

Later that night, Ahmed undressed and got into bed with a book. Without any new developments concerning Adralestos's murder, there was nothing to distract from the uneasy feelings between them. But he had nothing that he could say to Herger, either, so kept to himself with reading.

Herger got into bed with him and crossed his arms over his chest. Ahmed could see he was being watched, but kept reading. His eyes scanned the same three sentences, but he couldn't understand their meaning. His eyelids slowly grew heavy, so he shut them to take a short rest.

He opened them again when he felt the book taken out of his hands. Herger had blown out the lamp and was leaning over Ahmed. He paused when Ahmed stirred.

"I fell asleep," Ahmed muttered, disoriented. It was much darker in the room now, and the wind had picked up outside. Ahmed could hear trees thrashing in the gusts and waves of rain rushing against the house.

"Despite my wishes, yes." Herger slipped the book free of his grasp and leaned further to put it on a low bed-side table.

"What would you rather I had done?"

"Any number of things, except fall asleep."

Ahmed could hear a smirk in Herger's voice. Herger pulled back far enough to line up their faces, and lowered his head.

Ahmed let Herger's kisses awaken him, enjoying the heat put off by his lover's skin and the soft brush of beard and lips. With the storm the room felt drafty, and Ahmed was glad for a bed companion with warm skin.

When their passion sparked and grew, Ahmed pulled Herger closer and spread his legs to fit their hips together. Herger lowered himself onto Ahmed and, with hands free, began caressing him as they kissed. Ahmed moaned as his hands were held above his head and his nipples teased to stiff, sensitive points. He jerked his hips against Herger's hardness, trying to get some relief from his lust.

Herger released Ahmed's hands and moved his head down, taking his mouth to Ahmed's nipples next. His hands worked Ahmed's libas down and began caressing his cock and balls. It felt magnificent, with Herger gently squeezing his shaft and rubbing a thumb over his tip.

But as he was letting Herger pleasure him, Ahmed couldn't keep the thought of Naila from his mind. He realized that this night may be one of the last he would ever spend with Herger, if he did leave for Baghdad and Herger did not wait for him. He was distracted for a moment from the pleasures of the flesh.

"Ahmed?"

He loved hearing his name, whispered in that husky voice. He lifted his head.

"Herger. I want you to penetrate me."

Herger hesitated, a rare thing. He pushed back onto his haunches. "Be clear what you are asking."

"I want you to...fuck me," Ahmed managed. "I am ready."

The request surprised Herger to the point that, for a moment, he did nothing at all. Ahmed got up and re-lit the lamp, a process that took some time since it required getting a coal from the stove and blowing on it while holding it against the wick. By the time he was finished and there was some light again, Herger had come out of his thoughts.

"I thought you would never ask," Herger murmured. "I thought you would always be afraid."

Ahmed looked at him in the light, with his decorated skin, wild hair, and swollen staff between his legs. His eyes seemed drawn to Herger's sex, and he couldn't look away. He stretched out on the bed and put his hand on Herger's knee, stroking up the muscled thigh to his groin.

Herger sucked in an uneven breath as Ahmed stroked him. He stared at Ahmed as Ahmed touched, until Ahmed slid Herger's foreskin back and rubbed the weeping tip of his cock. Then Herger's eyes closed and he breathed out just as unsteadily.

In a few quick moves he lay down again, pressing up against Ahmed's side and kissing him deeply. He ran a hand over Ahmed's chest, pinching his nipples and rubbing his skin until Ahmed writhed and grabbed Herger's hand. He pulled it down to his groin, groaning as Herger wrapped his fingers around him.

"She will never pleasure you like this," Herger whispered against his mouth. Then he pulled his hand away.

Ahmed realized he was getting the oil. His mouth went dry.

Herger slicked himself, then poured a few more drops into his palm. He handed the oil to Ahmed and waited while Ahmed put it on the table, rolling onto his side to reach. While he was turned away, Ahmed felt a hand on his hip.

Herger nudged Ahmed's leg out of the way and brought his oily fingers to Ahmed's cleft. Ahmed reminded himself that he had done this more than once, and that it had not hurt when Herger was doing it. He pushed his face into a pillow and concentrated on the sensations, rather than on what was to come.

It did feel good. The more Herger touched, the more sensitive Ahmed became. Herger wrapped himself around Ahmed, kissing and sucking the back of Ahmed's neck as he moved his fingers into his body. Ahmed's scalp crawled with pleasant sensations.

After a while he found himself pushing back against Herger's touch, gasping with need. He liked this, and was ready for more.

Herger saw his readiness. He brought himself closer to Ahmed's back, holding onto his hip with one hand as he positioned himself. His other hand kept Ahmed's entrance spread, fingers inside him. Ahmed held still, his heart beating loudly in his ears.

The fingers slid out. Herger was breathing heavily.

Ahmed felt a blunt pressure where the fingers had been. He held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut, gripping his pillow.

The pressure increased in a sudden jab of pain. Ahmed cried out, the breath rushing out of his chest. His insides throbbed around the intrusion in his body. He reached back and tried to push Herger away, hand scrabbling, crying out for Herger to stop.

Herger pulled out, a move that was nearly as uncomfortable as the penetration. Ahmed yelped again, feeling as though his guts were being pulled out with Herger's cock.

Herger grabbed his wrist and tried to hold it still. "I am sorry! I went in wrong. Let me--"

"Just stop!" Ahmed hugged himself, squeezing his eyes shut. How stupid he had been, to think that God would not punish him for doing these things.

Herger did stop. He seemed to understand that he had genuinely hurt Ahmed. He said nothing as he lay back down.

Ahmed opened his eyes. The lamp was still burning. He reached out for the snuffer, pushing the jar of oil out of his way to get it. The lamp went out.  


 

Ahmed woke early in the morning, when the room was just becoming light with dawn. Herger was still sleeping beside him.

Ahmed rolled upright and stood, wincing at the ache in his backside. He could see how Herger had compared the feeling to saddle soreness, but Allah only knew how the man found the source of such discomfort to be pleasurable.

He dressed in silence and went down to the kitchen. To his shock, Irene was there as well.

They said quiet greetings to each other. Irene was sitting at a table sipping tea, while a couple of slaves prepared a breakfast for her. Ahmed told one that he wanted oat meal with honey and cream, then leaned against a wall to wait for his food. Irene gestured toward an empty stool next to her.

"Please sit."

"I had not thought to see you today," Ahmed confessed as he adjusted his robes and sat. His backside twinged sharply and he fought a grimace.

"I am better, but I still will not go to court. I cannot endure seeing people there, people who have hated Petros and myself both, who would be happy to see me in misery." Her voice thickened as she finished and she looked down into her teacup.

Ahmed reached over, and patted her hand when she did not draw away. "This has been a horrible experience. Take your time in mourning him. We will do whatever you ask, Herger and I."

Irene nodded and stirred her tea, pouring a bit more from the pot to freshen her cup. She still averted her gaze from Ahmed's eyes, and sipped from her cup quietly.

After a moment, she glanced at him. "I know I asked you all to go to court in my stead, but please have Herger stay with me today."

Ahmed nodded. "For your protection," he said, thinking aloud.

Irene gave a small, sad smile. "And company."

"I will tell him."

At that moment Ahmed and Irene were served their breakfasts. They ate silently for a few minutes. Ahmed felt strange eating in such an intimate situation with Irene, but she seemed too distracted to notice it.

After a while she put down an untouched roll of bread and touched Ahmed's arm. "I would like you to draw up some papers for me."

Ahmed ducked his head in agreement. "Of course," he said when he had swallowed his mouthful of food.

"A bill of sale." Irene elaborated.

"For what, between whom?"

"Between me and you...and for Herger."

Ahmed froze with a spoonful of meal on the way to his mouth. He put the spoon back in the bowl and his hands in his lap. "I beg your pardon, madam?"

"If anyone questions who he is, he could be arrested by the Imperial Guards. There should be something legally acceptable to keep him free, not just his word or yours. It is for his protection." Irene picked at some fruit on her plate. "He must not know, of course. He would never accept it."

"Of course," Ahmed murmured, impressed that Irene knew Herger so well. He thought ruefully of how Herger might react, knowing that he was being enslaved on paper, and was glad that he and Irene had found each other for a private talk.

Irene pushed her plate away. "Thank you for talking with me. If you will excuse me..."

How like Irene to thank Ahmed for something he was happy to do. He stood as she did, bowing as she left the table.  


 

After he finished eating, Ahmed returned to his rooms to get his dagger and turban in preparation for going out. Herger was awake and sitting in the library, looking out the window with a distracted expression. He stood when Ahmed entered.

"About last night."

Ahmed waited as he tucked his dagger into his belt, then realized Herger was waiting himself for some acknowledgment. "Yes?"

"You know that I never meant to hurt you."

"I do know that." Ahmed picked up the pieces of his turban and went to the mirror in the bedroom. Herger followed him.

"And it is not always like that. It has been a long time since I have fucked anyone; I did it poorly. We could do it again and you would see how it really can be."

Ahmed wound the length of fabric around his head and left some remaining so that the fabric draped over his shoulder. He finally turned, surprised to see how anxious Herger was about this.

"I do not think that will be necessary," he said gently. "I asked you to do it last night because I do not know how much longer we have together, but that act is not really necessary, is it? We do not need to consummate anything. We know what we have."

Herger huffed out a breath, his face growing red. "If you are only saying this because you are afraid--"

"Fear has nothing to do with it," Ahmed interrupted, his voice sharpening as he lost his patience. "I am choosing not to do something that causes me pain. If you burn your hand in the fire, do you reach in the flames again?"

"I do if I trust the person asking it of me!"

Ahmed sighed. He could not understand why Herger would not let this go. He moved toward the door, murmuring, "I am not going to argue this with you."

"Running like a coward, I see."

"I am going to court with Naila, as planned!"

Herger walked past him and picked up his cloak. "Then let us go. We can continue this on the way."

Ahmed put himself between Herger and the door. "Irene said she needs you here. I saw her as I ate this morning. Ask her yourself if you do not believe me."

Herger huffed and turned away, putting his cloak back on its peg. "I trust you," he said over his shoulder, with heavy irony.  


 

Ahmed went to Naila's house, where he waited for an hour while she finished preparing to go to court. When at last she was ready, they walked through the midmorning city crowds to the emperor's palace.

When he returned home alone four hours later, he had a pounding headache. He had accompanied Naila home and then begged off spending the afternoon with her, as he was not in the mood or physical condition for company.

He had a kitchen slave fix him a headache tonic, and sat next to the cook fire sipping it. When he felt better, he went to Irene's reception room and asked a slave if she would see him.

"You spoke with Emperor Romanus," Irene said as she walked into the room.

Ahmed stood and nodded, folding his hands in front of himself. "Madam Naila was extremely helpful in facilitating an audience with him."

"And how was it?"

Ahmed winced. "Not as we had hoped." He sat when Irene gestured to their usual places. "Petros Adralestos will be given a royal funeral. He is committed to honoring his memory. But he does not believe that Basil is the likely suspect."

Irene's face fell. "Just as I feared." Her voice was filled with pain, almost as if she had been dealt a physical blow.

Ahmed's heart rose to his throat as he watched Irene struggle silently to withhold her emotions. He averted his gaze respectfully, looking at the floor.

"Herger and I will not stop in bringing Basil to justice, despite what the emperor said," he vowed in a low voice.

"I appreciate that very much," Irene said thickly.

Ahmed nodded to himself, then realized there was no other business between them, and Irene obviously did not feel up for a chat. He stood and excused himself quietly. Normally he would not leave her presence without permission, but she did not give him a glance as he left.


	18. Chapter 18

Three days after the murder, the funeral for Adralestos was held. He was lying in state in the emperor's palace. In the afternoon, Ahmed and Herger accompanied Irene, her family, and Naila to pay their last respects.

Most of the court attended, and to Ahmed's dismay that included Basil Maniaces. Irene gripped his arm more tightly when they spotted him, but he said nothing to them, nor they to him. Ahmed noticed that Herger bristled at the man's presence, but he kept a cool head.

Because of the maiming, Adralestos' body could not be fully displayed. Instead he was wrapped from head to toe in white silk, mummy-like. Irene had personally arranged for the covering, and donated the cloth. As the procession trailed by, mourners tossed flower petals onto the body. Their heady scent made Ahmed's eyes water. Irene noticed him wiping them and patted his arm.

Nikolas, the Patriarch of Constantinople, led the funereal service. Ahmed noticed that Irene seemed distracted, lost in her thoughts instead of listening to the old man's voice. Seeing her in a private moment made him feel self-conscious about staring, so he directed his attention to the greater room, looking for any threats to Irene.

It did not surprise him that Basil watched them with a steady, blank gaze.

Ahmed stared back, angry that Basil was being so rude. His eyes continued to water and sting from the flowers' perfume, but he forced himself not to blink until Basil sighed and broke the eye contact, looking toward the priest. It was a small battle won, but he felt a measure of satisfaction from it.

After the service he and Herger accompanied Irene home, and then Naila asked him to take tea with her and Irene. When he returned to his rooms, Ahmed was exasperated to find that Herger had disappeared again. It was close to the time for the evening meal and he had a suspicion that Herger had gone off without him, to eat with his Varangian friends. Perhaps he didn't feel as though he could release his aggression over Basil in front of Ahmed, or he didn't care to spend any time with him. Thinking over the possibilities for Herger's absence, Ahmed was more irritated than before.

He ate alone in his room, then spent some time putting down his story of Buliwyf's heroism and fatal end. The story could be hugely successful if published in Baghdad, and he wanted to have something to show to his old friends when he arrived home.

He lost himself in the creative exercise, only stopping to refill his lamp and stretch his back. But after several hours of straight writing, it was his sore behind that made him leave his hard wood stool in favor of his bed.

Herger returned as Ahmed was undressing. Ahmed greeted him quietly, then looked over at him when Herger did not answer.

Herger went straight to the wash basin, splashing his hands in the water and rubbing a bar of soap over his forearms. Ahmed stripped off his shirt and walked over to him.

"What are you…"

He trailed off when he spotted the basin. The water was tinted bright red.

"Herger!" Dropping his shirt, Ahmed grabbed his hands and began looking for the injury. Herger pushed him off.

"It is not mine."

The words took a moment to sink in, but as Ahmed watched more he realized that all of the blood was washing off. When his hands were clean, Herger paused and looked over at Ahmed.

"Look away now."

Ahmed's brow furrowed. Herger repeated, "Ahmed, look away." His blue eyes searched Ahmed's face, his earnest expression willing him to comply.

With no reason to refuse, Ahmed turned his back. He loosened his pants and stepped out of them, hearing more splashing from behind him.

Ahmed got into bed and watched Herger turn from the basin, drying his hands. He then dried his dagger before putting it on a table. He was wearing his old shirt, and Ahmed saw that it was dirty and clung to him with sweat, as if Herger had been in a battle.

Ahmed took all this in without saying a word. He didn't know exactly what Herger had been up to, but it seemed as though he was acting with Ahmed in mind. If he was protecting Ahmed from finding out what he had done, then Ahmed would respect that, and not ask questions.

Herger undressed and walked over to the bed, free with his nudity. He got into the bed and immediately drew close to Ahmed, leaning in for a kiss.

"I thought you were angry with me," Ahmed murmured.

Herger put one of his legs between Ahmed's thighs, pressing still closer. Ahmed could feel heat against his hip as Herger continued to kiss him. He finally stopped to reply.

"You do test my patience," he murmured, punctuating this with another brief kiss; "but I cannot stay angry with you. You look too delicious to ignore."

Ahmed found this strange. "You say that as if you want to eat me." He laughed uncertainly.

Herger smiled and rolled onto his back, making himself comfortable in his own spot on the bed and closing his eyes. "You are glorious." He spoke simply, like it was a plain truth. He opened one eye and looked over at Ahmed. "I cannot help but appreciate you."

"Glorious?" Ahmed repeated, incredulous. He looked down at himself. He only saw what he had seen every day of his life: his body, darker at his hands and face from the sun, lightly dusted with dark hair. His libas was a little gray from having to wash his clothes in rivers and lakes for so long. "You are imagining things," he said with more confidence.

Herger opened his eyes again and gave Ahmed a cockeyed expression. When Ahmed only shrugged, Herger rolled onto his side and reached over to Ahmed's lap. He tugged down the edge of Ahmed's libas, revealing his manhood.

" _That_ I have not imagined."

A burning blush heated Ahmed's face. He covered himself and pushed Herger's hand away. "Do not be ridiculous."

"I am not."

Ahmed pulled a blanket up to his waist and folded his arms. "So you admire my body, yet you were angry with me for the past several days. You want me to trust you, but you will not promise to wait for me until I return from Baghdad. You come in here with blood on your hands, and you want me to get naked and fornicate with you?"

Herger did not hesitate. "Yes."

Ahmed laughed humorlessly. He looked away, shaking his head in disbelief. "I do not understand how we managed to get this far and stay together."

Herger was much slower in responding this time. "We cared for each other."

Ahmed looked over at him. "I still do. I just do not understand you."

Herger seemed lost in thought. After a long moment he lay back and closed his eyes. "The skein of our lives is decided only by the Great Father. I do not presume to question what already is."

He was not speaking of Ahmed's god, but Ahmed understood the sentiment very well all the same. He put out the lamp and settled in to sleep, although it did not come for some time.  


 

The next morning he slept late and was awakened by a knock on the door. When he answered it, a slave delivered a summons from Irene. The slave didn't blink at Ahmed answering the door late in the morning wearing only his undergarment. He politely kept his gaze averted and gave his message, then accepted Ahmed's response.

Ahmed closed the door and looked at the bed. Herger was lying on his stomach, gripping his pillow, his legs tangled in blankets. Ahmed envied him the deep sleep he was in, and watched him for a moment as he dressed.

The summons had not been extended to Herger as well, so Ahmed decided against waking him. He finished dressing and went to Irene's rooms.

To his surprise, a group of Imperial Guardsmen were there, as well as Naila al-Zarqa'. The guards, four of them, were dressed in armor with the emperor's insignia on the breastplates. Irene gestured Ahmed inside as soon as he stepped through the doorway.

"This is my secretary, Ahmed ibn Fahdlan," Irene said to the guards. "He did not leave at all last night. Some of my slaves can speak for him, as well as his own slave."

"And I can speak for Irene, as I have already said, "Naila added. "I was her guest here last night."

"Madam, if I may…" Ahmed was surprised when the guards' expressions turned sour at the sound of his voice. He continued to Irene: "What is going on?"

One guard answered him before Irene could. He was tall and had a full beard, and the other guards looked at him as he spoke. "Two men have been killed. The emperor wants the culprit brought to justice."

"I am suspected?"

"All of you. Fetch your slave, Arab. We want to talk to him."

Ahmed hurried back to his rooms. He went straight to the bed, sitting on the edge at Herger's hip. He put a hand on Herger's shoulder and shook him gently.

When Herger opened his eyes and looked blearily at Ahmed, he spoke quickly and quietly. "There are guards here, talking to Irene and Naila. They wanted me to bring you to them."

With the succinct explanation, Herger nodded and pushed the covers back. Ahmed stood to let him dress. He went to the door when they were ready to go back out, but felt Herger's touch on his arm. He turned.

"Just in case," Herger murmured, and pressed his mouth to Ahmed's in a long, soft kiss.

Ahmed didn't want to ask what he meant. He gave Herger a grim smile and opened the door.  


 

As soon as Herger and Ahmed reentered the room, the guards didn't hesitate. They asked Herger where he had been the evening before after leaving the funeral.

"Here," he replied bluntly. He had his arms crossed and his legs braced wide, an unyielding posture. "I never left."

The guards turned to Ahmed for confirmation.

Ahmed felt a sweat break out across his body, but he didn't hesitate. "As we told you, we were all here last night."

The two guards gave them all glowering looks. Finally the leader, the one with the beard, looked at Irene.

"The men killed were Basil Maniaces and Panterius Euphorbenus."

Irene gasped audibly before the guards could continue. Naila reached out and grabbed her hand, gripping it tightly. Ahmed felt his sweat turn cold.

"Because Panterius was in the army, the emperor is concerned that someone was able to overtake one of his soldiers. And because it was these two men, there is speculation that the person responsible has ties to this household."

Ahmed looked at Irene, expecting her to respond, but he could see even at a distance that she was shaking. Naila wrapped an arm around her as he was watching. He turned back to the guards, his voice sharp.

"Although it is true that this household has had problems with Basil in the past, no one here is a murderer. Irene's daughter just married Panterius. Why would we want to make her a widow?"

One of the other guards crossed the room, directly to Ahmed. He reached him and kept walking, forcing Ahmed to back up or be run into. The guard walked him back until Ahmed hit the door, and then the guard pinned him there with hands on his shoulders. Irene said something, but Ahmed wasn't paying attention. He tried to push the guard away, but the man put a forearm in Ahmed's throat and pressed until he choked.

"Do not talk back to us, Arab."

Ahmed tried to reach for the dagger in his belt, but the guard was faster. He drew his own short sword and aimed the point at Ahmed's eye, barely leaving two inches between the blade and Ahmed's face. Ahmed dropped his hand from his waist, connecting with the guard's gaze as he continued.

"We know your kind. You Muslims would like nothing more than to kill the emperor himself and take the throne. We are here to keep that from happening, even if that means slitting your filthy throat."

"Please, master…" To Ahmed's shock, that was Herger speaking. He came up to the guard and tried to pull Ahmed away from him. "He has done nothing, we swear to you."

The guard shook him off, but released Ahmed. He gave them a last dirty look, then turned and sheathed his sword as Irene started talking. She seemed to have taken heart from Ahmed's outspokenness.

"Basil is—was—my nephew. I am shocked and saddened to hear this news, and I am hurt that anyone in my house is suspected of being behind it. I am sure that if the emperor wants to know anything more, he will have us come to him. In the meantime, I have business to attend to. Will that be all, gentlemen?"

The guards obviously did not have orders to arrest anyone yet; merely to interrogate. The leader of the guards nodded to Irene and led the group out.

Irene pulled out of Naila's hold and crossed to Ahmed, holding her arms out. He thought she merely meant to take his hands, but instead she slipped her arms around his torso and hugged him tightly. Ahmed was frozen with surprise as she started talking.

"Thank god they did nothing more! I was so afraid. I do not know what is going on, but…" She trailed off and gripped him tighter.

He began stroking Irene's shoulders, foregoing propriety without a thought. Herger and Naila stood a few feet away, watching. Ahmed looked at Herger and felt another swell of apprehension, knowing in his soul that the blood on Herger's hands the night before was connected to the deaths. He closed his eyes and pressed his cheek to the top of Irene's head.

"You have to get away from the city," Irene continued. She pulled back and smoothed her hair away from her face, looking from Ahmed to Herger.

"The caravan?" Naila suggested softly.

Irene nodded to her. "An excellent idea."

"But they could follow your route, if they were searching for us," Herger cut in.

"Not if you are not with the caravan," Naila said to him.

Ahmed looked at her with confusion. Naila tilted her head toward the chairs and pillows around Irene's divan, and they took their repose before she elaborated.

"Irene claims that she has sent her secretary to Baghdad. In reality you go elsewhere, on your own," she continued, looking back at Ahmed. "If necessary, I would tell them that you went missing or died on the way to Baghdad."

"You…you would lie for us?" Ahmed was accustomed to treachery from men, but this was Irene and Naila scheming together. They did not even know for certain that Herger had done anything!

"You have done nothing but show me loyalty and love," Irene said, lowering her voice. She reached out and touched Ahmed's cheek, directing his gaze to her. "These can be dangerous times for Arabs in this city. You do not deserve a lynch mob, regardless of who killed Basil."

" _Because_ of Basil," Herger interjected. "After all, his death will give you peace."

Irene released Ahmed and extended her hand to Herger, smiling when he took her fingers in his. "I do not celebrate murder, but I do confess I will not be heartfelt in mourning my nephew and son-in-law. And we will speak of this no more," she added gravely, looking intently into his eyes.

Herger nodded knowingly.

Irene looked to Naila. "Is the caravan ready to leave by tomorrow?"

"I have been waiting on two more merchants, but I can rush them or leave them behind. Yes, we could leave tomorrow." It was one of the rare times Naila spoke about business, and Ahmed was impressed by her competency, as always.

"Then, Ahmed and Herger, you must be packed by tonight," Irene continued to the men. "I will have Ahmed draw up letters for you. I have friends you can go to, who will protect you."

Ahmed's head was reeling. "Where?"

Irene smiled. "Al-Andalus."  


 

Ahmed went back to his rooms in a daze. It was difficult to fathom that after expecting to go to Baghdad for so long, it was suddenly snatched away from him. And Naila—there would be no trip with her, no hints from his father to marry her, nothing but a hasty goodbye the following morning. The Muslim part of him was disappointed to have the opportunities she presented taken away from him. The rest of him was glad to have an excuse to stay with Herger.

He consoled himself with the thought of seeing Cordoba. Although the Muslim city was two hundred years past her prime, she would have the same possibilities available as Baghdad did. If Herger decided not to stay with him any longer, he could always find a wife there.

But they had to get there, first.

Ahmed and Herger reached their rooms, Herger brushing by him. He immediately took his saddlebags and began filling them with the things he had brought with him from Jutland, and the little trinkets and goods he had picked up in Constantinople. Watching him sort the wares, Ahmed suddenly remembered something he had desperately wanted to do.

Herger looked up when Ahmed grabbed his purse and hurried for the door, but Ahmed didn't want to take time to explain.

He went to the bazaar, and found the merchant he was looking for. His desperation made bartering over prices come more easily to him; he was determined to have the item. When it was finally handed over to him, he rushed back to Irene's house in excitement.

Herger cocked an eyebrow when Ahmed came back into the room. It was only early summer, but the sun's heat and his rushing around made Ahmed sticky with sweat. He took off his turban and crossed the room, holding the linen-wrapped gift out for Herger.

"I wanted you to have this."

Herger's eyes widened when he unwrapped the saber. He touched the jade grip with such wonder that Ahmed felt he was seeing a side of Herger never before revealed. The expression on his face instantly made the gift worth the price.

"This is too much," Herger murmured, but he did not take his eyes off the saber. The gold and steel reflected on his face and made him seem to glow.

"Do not insult me by refusing it."

"But I already have my blades, and you have only your dagger. You should have this, not I."

"Herger…"

He picked up the saber, linen and scabbard and all, and held it out. "I accept it, but you must keep it for me, and use it."

Ahmed grudgingly took it back, not wanting to be rude in refusing Herger, although this was the strangest exchange of a gift he had ever experienced. "I will not keep it," he reiterated. "It is yours."

Herger nodded, face alight. "You will bury it with me."

The thought saddened Ahmed, so he said nothing. Instead he pulled the blade from its scabbard and held it up to the light, examining the engravings. Herger rose to his feet.

"It is beautiful," he heard close to his ear. A hand patted his shoulder before Herger went back to his chores.

They continued packing through the afternoon hours. Ahmed was deeply pained to think of leaving the library and all his supplies behind, but they needed to pack light. That meant also leaving much of the beautiful things he'd bought or had made. He thus had to focus on what he needed. Luckily, the types of clothing he had acquired in Constantinople were more appropriate for North Africa than for Jutland. He'd be going into his element, and Herger coming out of his.

Because of this, Ahmed persuaded Herger to pack away his leather pants and heavy woolen jacket, putting them deep in his bags in favor of light fabrics that could hang loosely around his body. They were close enough in height and weight that Ahmed's clothes fit him. Herger was a little over two inches taller, so Ahmed had the outer robe given to a servant for the hem to be taken out. It was a matter of vanity; Ahmed would not let someone he had dressed walk around with his ankles showing.

Herger did not care about his ankles specifically, but overall he was none too pleased to be dressing like an Arab. He was convinced that he would be laughed at and mocked, but Ahmed persuaded him that once they were in the sun and wearing protective clothing over their faces, most people would not even notice him. But Herger was adamant at not letting his Varangian friends see him in such garb.

"When are they going to see you?" Ahmed asked, exasperated.

Herger stared at him as if he were stupid. "I will not leave without telling them."

Ahmed had not thought of that. He nodded, thinking that Herger would be out for most of the night with his last goodbyes, which left him at home, alone.

Herger had sharp eyes, and he saw what was going through Ahmed's mind. "Come with me," he offered.

Ahmed shook his head and finished tightening the straps on his saddlebags. "Thank you, but no."

The Varangians were civil to him, even amused by him, but he was not one of them. He wanted Herger to have this final night to himself, not to be distracted by making sure Ahmed was accepted.

Herger watched him for a moment, then nodded. Without Ahmed having to say anything more, he understood.  


 

By supper time, Herger had changed into his regular clothes and left for one of the nearby taverns. Ahmed went to the kitchens to ask for his own meal, expecting to spend one last night in the library before he had to give it up.

He was sitting at the preparation table, watching the flames jump under one of the big iron kettles, when another servant came in and addressed him.

"Naila al-Zarqa' has sent this to you, master." He held out a note.

Ahmed opened it and read quickly. Naila was inviting him to her home for a final meal together.

At once his heart leaped at the prospect of having company for the evening, and fell at the thought of having to see Naila. The meeting would surely be awkward. But Fahdlan had not raised his sons to be cowards, so Ahmed nodded and told the cooks that he would not be dining on their food after all.

After freshening up, he walked to Naila's home and was admitted. He was taken to her reception room, where food waited in covered vessels and floor pillows were plumped invitingly. He sat and waited for her, mouth watering at the smells coming from the dishes.

He heard a light step at the door, and turned to see a woman enter the room.

Her dark hair was loosely bound back, flowing down to her waist, and she wore an ensemble of deep orange silks that complemented her creamy skin. She smiled at him and showed strong white teeth, with one eyetooth endearingly crooked out of alignment. With a jolt, he realized he recognized her eyes.

"Naila…" Ahmed stood as she crossed the room.

"I thought I could do away with propriety on our last evening together."

"I…I am pleased, but…"

"I am a widow, Ahmed. I would like to remarry. It was my choice to wear the veil, in hopes that it might incite men to consider me for a wife. But I know you will not be the one to have my hand, so what is the point in my wearing the veil in front of you?"

She had a very good point, but it was still a shock to see her full face after months of knowing nothing but her eyes. He nodded, unable to keep himself from staring.

She gestured toward the pillows and table service, a wave of the hand he caught out of the corner of his eye. "Let us sit."

He remembered why he was there, and sank down onto his pillow.

As he became accustomed to her face, conversation came easier. Naila served him food and they talked about the impending trip while they ate. But Ahmed's thoughts inevitably turned to his father, and he grew quieter as his mood darkened.

"I find myself sorely wanting to see him again," he murmured in a break in the conversation, staring at the table in distraction. "I never thought I would want it as much as I do now."

"Such is the way of the heart," Naila said gently. "When my husband died, I could not sleep each night without trying to imagine the sound of his snoring to lull me. Ours was not a loving marriage," she explained, with a meaningful look. "But it was difficult for me when it ended."

Ahmed nodded, not having anything to say to that.

They ate in silence for a little while longer, until the meal was finished. For a final course, Naila ordered tea and the Greek cakes called baklava. They sat back with their cups and plates, the familiar post-meal lassitude coming over them.

"I have not thought what to tell my father," Ahmed mused, the topic still on his mind.

"As to why you will not be with me when I arrive in Baghdad," Naila filled in, clarifying. Ahmed nodded.

"He and I have been writing these last months. He knows I want to come back home, although I did not know when I would leave Constantinople."

"I will give him whatever message you desire," Naila assured him. "I can tell him that Irene has sent you to Spain or Africa. I can tell him that you miss him terribly, and that you send your love to him."

Ahmed dropped his head. His heart ached in his throat. He breathed through his mouth to steady himself.

"I will leave out any mention of your servant, if you would like that too."

Ahmed looked up at that. "Why?"

"So your father will not suspect the truth."

Ahmed's skin crawled with the chill of shock. He stared at Naila, trying to form a question, but his mind was racing with too many thoughts to draw one out.

"Your secret is safe with me," Naila whispered. She ate her baklava and watched Ahmed over the rim of her teacup as she washed it down. Her intense blue eyes sparkled mischievously.

"H-How did you know?" Ahmed managed. He felt his fingertips burning and put down the hot cup of tea.

"I may wear a veil, but I am not blind," Naila retorted. "The fact that both of you do very little without the other by your side…the glances you exchange, the friendship you have…and the fact that you truly smile only when he walks into the room. A woman knows when she has been bested by another in the contest for a man's heart." She said this all mildly, apparently not at all offended or disgusted by the subject at hand.

Perhaps she did not know the extent of Ahmed's relationship with Herger. Perhaps she only thought that Ahmed had some vague, unformed love for him, or merely held him in high esteem. Perhaps. Ahmed was not about to put the ideas in her head by asking questions.

Ahmed swallowed and realized his throat was dry. He managed to drink some of his tea, thinking that Allah had surely blessed him with such understanding acquaintances.

When Naila showed him to the door, she kissed him on the cheek and touched his arm gently. They promised to see each other at the caravan the next morning, but this in itself was a formal goodbye to the lost possibilities. Naila was obviously at peace with the situation, even though Ahmed felt guilty for not being able to go through with a marriage that would please his father. His worries were not of her concern, however. He put on a pleasant smile for her and breathed in the smell of her when she kissed his cheek, and told himself to be content with that.  


 

To Ahmed's surprise, Herger was already home when Ahmed arrived. He had lit a fire despite the reasonable weather, and was drinking wine by the hearth. When Herger looked up at Ahmed upon his entrance into the room, Ahmed was reminded of Naila's comment about him smiling upon first sight of Herger. With this thought making him self-conscious, his smile was awkward. Herger did not look overjoyed to see him, either.

"I thought you would be here. I came back early for you," Herger said, apparently disgruntled.

"I had my evening meal with Naila." Ahmed unwound and hung up his turban, thinking that it would be the last time he would do so in this house. He would miss having his own apartment.

Herger huffed. "If you had wanted to eat with her, you did not need to lie to me."

Ahmed frowned severely at him and sat on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes. "I did not lie. The invitation came after you had already gone."

"I'm surprised you're not still at her house, trying to fight your way out of her arms. You got away so easily, eh?" Herger gulped the last of the wine in his cup and reached for the decanter, watching Ahmed as he did so.

"She let me go." Ahmed felt smug now, pleased to be proving Herger wrong twice in a row. "She has figured us out."

Herger stopped his hand with the cup halfway to his mouth. "What?"

"She is not pursuing me for marriage any longer. She knows you have my heart." Ahmed stood and began disrobing, hanging each garment on pegs as he pulled off the layers.

"I do, do I?"

Ahmed didn't respond, thinking that Herger would probably make fun of him for a declaration of love. Truthfully, he had been thinking about it, and he didn't know exactly what it was he felt toward Herger.

Most of the time, it was exasperation.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. He'd only undressed to his pants, so he pulled a shirt back on and answered. Irene stood there.

He immediately bowed and opened the door further for her, murmuring a greeting.

"I will not keep you long. Shall we discuss your route?"

"Please, yes."

Irene led the way to the library, Ahmed following. Herger trailed in a moment after Ahmed seated himself, carrying his goblet of wine and smiling at Irene.

From a bookcase, Irene pulled out a map of the world. Ahmed sat to take dictation while she talked and used the map for emphasis.

"You will take one of my ships to Tunis. I am expecting a large shipment of gold, ivory, and musk brought overland to the port there. You will oversee delivery and payment, and then send the ship back to Constantinople. You will then continue on to Sebta and then Cordoba by ship. When you arrive in the city, ask for Salim al-Tunayzi. I will sign a note attesting your employment with me."

Ahmed wrote quickly as she spoke, and looked up when she mentioned sailing to Sebta. "As much as I appreciate your help, madam…must we sail? Why not travel overland to Sebta?"

Irene's mouth twitched in a wry grin. "You have something against water travel?"

"He throws up," Herger put in. Ahmed sighed to himself at the lack of grace in that revelation, but nodded.

"Ah." Irene smiled knowingly. "Yes, you could go overland to Sebta. Whatever you like, as long as my ship returns to me after you arrive in Tunis."

Ahmed thanked her quietly. Herger added, "We cannot ever repay you."

Ahmed set to work writing a letter of reference for Irene to sign, while Irene went to Herger. She reached ran her fingers over his beard in a tender gesture.

"I will miss you greatly," she murmured, eyes bright with emotion. "I will not ever forget the pair of you."

"Nor we you. You are a great lady," Herger replied, looking deep into her gaze. He set down his wine and went on one knee, pressing her hand to his lips.

Irene laughed and patted his shoulder. "I think your wine is talking. Now, let me go before I embarrass myself with more tears."

Ahmed finished his letter and Irene signed it. While the ink dried, he accepted kisses on both cheeks from her, and was even allowed to hug her gently.

"I will not see you off," Irene whispered to him as they parted. "I will not be able to stand it."

Ahmed nodded, his own throat closing. Irene said a final goodbye to them both, and left the apartment.  


 

Ahmed put the papers in a cloth pouch, then wrapped it in oiled cloth to protect them from the weather. The whole packet went into his saddlebags so that he could keep them close to him at all times. With his letters taken care of, he continued readying himself for bed. After settling himself under the covers, he glanced up when Herger took an extra _miswak_ and went to the mirror.

It was a tool the Muslims used for scrubbing teeth, one that prevented decay and freshened the mouth. It had many other medicinal properties as well. Ahmed had replenished his supply of the twigs from the toothbrush tree while living in Constantinople, and he had several in his bags to take with him when they left.

To his surprise, Herger began scrubbing his teeth with the stick.

He spit and rinsed with water, then stripped out of his clothes and got into the bed. He cocked an eyebrow when he saw Ahmed watching him.

Ahmed smiled and put out the lamp, pushing down under the covers, adjusting his pillow. As soon as he settled, he felt Herger roll over.

"The last night in this bed…" Herger said softly, trailing off with meaning.

Ahmed turned onto his side to face him, although he could not make him out very well in the dark. "So it is. What of it, Northman?"

"I want to try something."

Ahmed didn't respond. He thought apprehensively of the pain of their last encounter.

"You will like it," Herger wheedled. "Something new."

Ahmed sighed and nodded. Somehow Herger sensed the motion in the dark, and scooted closer.

Ahmed was surprised when Herger merely kissed him. The kiss was soft and innocent, just a press of lips. Herger continued it for a few seconds, then readjusted and took more of Ahmed's bottom lip between his. He sucked gently and then released it, licking the seam of Ahmed's mouth.

A hand touched his waist, making him jump. Herger murmured a sound to reassure him and rested his hand on Ahmed's side, still kissing him. His touch was comforting, pleasing, while his kisses were sensual. Ahmed felt his body begin to warm and he shifted closer. Their knees bumped before Ahmed pushed his thigh between Herger's legs. He moved his leg slightly as their mouths connected, feeling skin and hair move against each other with a stimulating sensation.

Even with the physical sign of invitation made, Herger did not go any further than the hand on Ahmed's waist and the gentle kissing. He deepened the kisses gradually, but was so chaste in other respects that Ahmed found himself wanting to make each successive move. But Herger only pressed and rubbed his lips against Ahmed's mouth.

After a while, the only thought left in Ahmed's mind was that it had been a very long time since they had done only this, and he was discovering that he had missed it greatly. After this thought, his mind went blank except for a low hum of pleasure. The sound drowned out even the sounds of the kissing, until all he focused on was the sense of touch.

Herger's tongue was wet and soft in his mouth, a direct contrast from almost everything else about the man. His beard was especially shocking when they pressed their mouths together more firmly: full and a little rough, a thousand tiny points of pressure that only served to stimulate Ahmed's skin further. When they'd break a kiss and start a new one, sometimes the longer hair above Herger's lip would get between them and tickle Ahmed's mouth, forcing him to lick the sensation away. Herger didn't seem to mind the interruptions, and made a humming sound when Ahmed's tongue flicked between them.

Finally he pulled his tongue out of Herger's mouth and slid his face away, rubbing his cheek against Herger's beard and groaning his name.

"Now you are ready," Herger said in his ear. He bit the lobe and made Ahmed shudder with pleasure.

"Ready for what?" Ahmed was surprised to hear that his voice was low and throaty, changed now that he was aroused. Very aroused, he realized; his cock was hard, pointing up toward his stomach.

The hand Herger had on his waist pressed gently. "Onto your back."

Ahmed went eagerly, grabbed Herger's forearm to pull him along. But Herger moved down the bed, positioning himself between Ahmed's legs and moving down until his face was above Ahmed's groin. Ahmed trembled and tilted his hips up in a silent plea, biting his lip as he felt Herger's breath on his skin. He felt that if he concentrated hard enough, he could imagine Herger's mouth on his cock, giving the release he was aching for.

Instead Herger's tongue flicked over the loose skin of his testicles, the lightest teasing touch possible.

Ahmed cried out in surprise and raised one hand to cover his mouth. He had felt a few drops of pre-come drip from his cockhead in reaction to that light touch. While he was still recovering, Herger pushed his legs apart and did it again.

Ahmed gasped behind his hand and dropped his arm. He tried to do something, anything to incite further action. He moved his body toward Herger and tried to pull him closer. Herger pressed down on his hips and kissed the groove between pelvis and thigh, sucking on the tender skin while Ahmed cried out.

He was fast becoming over-sensitized, and in danger of climaxing prematurely. Without thinking he grabbed a fistful of Herger's hair and pulled, panting for him to give him some respite. Herger groaned at the tug on his hair and lifted up.

"Release me, and I'll give you what you want," Herger panted to him. Ahmed forced his fingers to uncurl.

He felt Herger move from between his legs and shift around on the bed next to him. Soon Herger's touch returned, his fingers and the tips of his hair brushing over Ahmed's thighs. Ahmed spread his legs invitingly and reached out, trying to find Herger in the darkness.

He touched him and realized that Herger was oriented in the opposite direction. Before he could question Herger about this, Herger began caressing the shaft of his cock, putting particular attention at rubbing the sensitive head.

"Do the same," Herger whispered up to him.

Ahmed ran his hand down Herger's side to his hip, then toward the center of his body. He found the soft, crinkly hair at his groin and pushed his fingers through it, wrapping them around the shaft at last. Herger moaned in his throat as Ahmed jerked him slowly, keeping his grip firm and tight.

And then Herger's mouth was on him, around him, sucking him deep. Ahmed groaned and stopped moving his hand, unable to concentrate on pleasuring Herger simultaneously. He just laid back and enjoyed the feel of Herger sucking him slowly. Herger was running his tongue along the top side of Ahmed's cock and making the head rub the roof of his mouth. The new position allowed Ahmed to go deeper into Herger's mouth, and he felt the edge of Herger's throat close around his tip as Herger took full advantage of the angle. Ahmed moaned and pumped his hips gently, fighting the urge to pound Herger's throat as the mouth around him tightened.

When he had become somewhat accustomed to the sensations being wrought, he began moving his hand again. Herger hummed and moved his body accordingly, positioning his pelvis over Ahmed's head. Ahmed realized what he wanted; what was so new and special about this position. He put a hand on Herger's hip and guided him lower, sliding as much of Herger's cock into his mouth as he could handle. The foreskin of Herger's cock slipped back as it moved across his tongue. The feeling was bizarre, and wonderful.

Having Herger's body so near his face filled Ahmed's senses. His scent was rich and heady, his skin and the muscles underneath a fascinating contradiction in feel. Ahmed dug his fingers into Herger's hip as he sucked, feeling the muscles of his buttocks give under the pressure. Herger grunted and pressed gently into his mouth.

Ahmed swallowed instinctively as the head of Herger's cock went deeper than ever before. He felt pre-come slide down his throat, lubricating the stiff rod as it moved. It felt fantastic, being filled this way, having this magnificent hardness inside him and using only his mouth to pleasure it.

Now he fully understood what Herger enjoyed about performing this act.

The epiphany sent a rush of warm feelings through Ahmed's body. He lifted his hips with an urgent groan, no longer fighting his climax. At the same time he grabbed Herger's hip with his other hand, bringing Herger closer until he felt his limit. Then he set about pushing it, sucking firmly and using only his mouth muscles to move Herger in and out.

Herger lifted his head, gasping. "Stop—I'm going to—"

Ahmed ignored his pleas. He continued until he felt Herger stiffen and begin to release. At that point he relaxed and let his mouth be filled before swallowing. Herger continued gasping, gently thrusting into Ahmed's mouth, riding out his climax.

As Herger finished, Ahmed realized it had been his name Herger had been gasping. He let Herger pull out and licked his lips, running his hands over Herger's body with great satisfaction.

When he had caught his breath, Herger murmured a curse, then occupied his mouth with other things. Ahmed let a chuckle slip and reached down to toy with Herger's hair as his head dipped. He pulled the blond mass back from Herger's face, and hissed as he felt Herger pull against it. It was almost like he was controlling the movements of Herger's head, guiding Herger to pleasure him, an image that sent lightning to his cock. He let the image stay in his mind, the fantasy driving his hips faster as his climax neared.

Within seconds his hips snapped deep into Herger's mouth, and then he froze, trembling. His cock jerked once without result, then began to release powerfully. Ahmed cried out, his body weakening with every pulse, until he lay feeble on the bed.

Herger licked him clean and finally sat back, his hair trailing through Ahmed's fingers. Ahmed rolled his head on the pillow to look toward him.

"I think you have ruined me." His body was heavy with pleasure. He felt giddy. He did not care if he ever moved again.

Herger laughed and turned himself, swinging his legs down the bed and curling up on his side. He leaned over and kissed Ahmed briefly. "Rest now, and recover. We have a new voyage to embark on tomorrow."

"So we do," Ahmed murmured, thinking of Irene and Naila. He would miss them, but he would have Herger for company, just as this whole adventure had started.

And now that he knew what experiences Herger had for him to enjoy, he could hardly way for the next stage.


End file.
